The Grim Reaper Part One
by dr. kitten
Summary: Every HUNK fan wonders what his childhood was like, and how he became the cold, efficient man he is today. This is my take on his story. AU. Rated T for violence and children in psychologically disturbing situations. Eventually HUNK/OC.
1. Introductions

Chapter One: Introductions

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Progress Report 1 (censored for security reasons) _

_Shipment of new trainees received this morning at 0600 hours. Eleven males and three females rounds the count out to fourteen exactly, two more than expected. The additional pair was added at *****'s request. The girl is suffering from PTSD following the murder of her parents and older brother last fall; she will either prove to be useless or highly effective depending on her reaction to the training methods. The boy has a past record of being socially awkward. It will be interesting to see how he copes with the team orientation of our program. _

_Here's the complete list of trainees, including the extra two:_

_1A - Bluff, Tony  
><em>

_1B - Garcia, Gabriel  
><em>

_2A - Anderson, Cynthia Annette  
><em>

_2B - Bell, Brenda  
><em>

_3A - Morgan, Emery Eric  
><em>

_3B - Walters, David Madison  
><em>

_4A - Worthington, Gregory  
><em>

_4B - Carson, James Edwin  
><em>

_5A - McDonnel, Ashlynn  
><em>

_5B - Milligan, Peter Carl  
><em>

_6A - Greenbay, Joseph Edison  
><em>

_6B - Chang, Jack  
><em>

_7A - Wittman, Jan  
><em>

_7B - Carter, Bella Matilda  
><em>

_Will supply details as requested. - ******_

The other children were talking with each other in hushed voices, speculating and even joking a bit as they waited to be told what to do. Jan sat in the cheap plastic chair (come on, couldn't they at least afford wooden chairs in a facility as expensive as this?) and stared at the wall. His head was throbbing dully and he rubbed his eyes, trying to alleviate the ache.

"Are you tired, honey?" asked the brown-haired woman who had brought them here. Her voice was honeyed and sympathetic. Jan turned his head away and ignored her. Let the adults think what they wanted.

"Don't worry, this will be over soon and then you can sleep," the woman persisted, laying a soliciting hand on his shoulder. He twitched away from her, and she sighed and left him alone. At last.

His cold blue eyes flickered over the others. They were all the same age as him (give or take a few months), but most of them were bigger. They bragged and boasted, proud of their extra inches of height, but Jan knew that he could beat any of them if it came to a fight. Even at the age of ten, he knew how to hurt people.

A door on the other end of the room slid open, and a man entered. He wore grey fatigues and had his hair cut short, but he didn't have the bearing of a military man. He seemed more like a scientist. His face was handsome but bland, his eyes hidden behind round glasses. Jan thought that he looked almost bored.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Rockfort Island Military Training and Evaluation Center," he began in a loud, falsely cheerful voice. The few children who had not noticed him immediate stopped and sat down, giving him their full attention.

"My name is Tom Creed," the man continued. "I'm going to be your teacher for the next five years, so let's learn to get along well. I'll call you all by your last names. You call me Mr. Creed or Sir. Got it?"

"Yes, Mr. Creed!" they chorused. Jan mouthed the words. Got to keep up appearances.

"Very good," beamed Creed. "Let's do roll call. I'll call out your names and Soldier Numbers, and I want you to respond with a nice, loud "Here!" Okay? 1A, Bluff."

"Here," said the biggest of the boys. Brown hair, brown eyes. There was even a tiny bit of brown fuzz on his upper lip. Despite his size, Jan didn't think he looked like a bully.

"Good," said Creed. "1B, Garcia."

A slender Spanish boy with a fine, dark face and black curls raised his hand. "Here," he said, his accented voice soft.

"Good. 2A, Anderson."

"Here!" cried a chubby blonde girl with pigtails. Her voice was shrill and bouncy.

"Good. 2B, Bell."

An African-American girl, who was sitting next to Anderson and seemed to be her friend, stood up. "Oh yeah, I'm here!" she said, throwing up peace signs before sitting back down.

Creed paused slightly and seemed about to reprimand her, but continued. "…Good. 3A, Morgan."

"Here," said a skinny boy with golden curls and a foolish grin. He giggled afterwards, as if he said something hilarious.

"Good. 3B, Walters."

"H-h-here," stammered a boy with glasses. He looked terrified to the point of throwing up.

"Good. 4A, Worthington."

There was only silence. Creed's face hardened, and he said, more sharply, "_4A, Worthington_."

"Here … sir," said the boy in question. His head was shaved, and his lips were fixed in a sneer. A born delinquent, his parents had probably sent him here so they wouldn't have to deal with him when he became a teenager.

"Good," said Creed, with emphasis. "4B, Carson."

A boy with dark, slicked-back hair, nodded. "Here."

"Good. 5A, McDonnel."

"Here," said a red-haired boy with an angry frown on his face. Definitely the sort to take out his frustrations on younger, weaker kids.

"Good. 5B, Milligan."

"Hew," lisped a round-faced kid who looked like he was no more than eight. He was the only boy there who was smaller than Jan.

Creed's face softened a little, and he actually cracked a smile that didn't look fake. "Good. 6A, Greenbay."

A boy sitting in the corner, whose face was mostly concealed by his baseball cap and windbreaker, muttered, "Here."

"Good. 6B, Chang."

"Here, sir!" exclaimed a Chinese boy, with a happy grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"Good. 7A, Wittman."

"Here," said Jan mechanically.

"Good. 7B, Carter."

Jan turned his attention to the last child, a girl who was sitting next to him. Her dark brown hair, slightly curly, was tied back with a blue ribbon and fell down to her shoulders, revealing her sensitive face. Her lips trembled and her green eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

"Here," she whispered.

"Speak up," said Creed, ruthlessly. "I didn't quite catch that."

She raised her voice to a whimper. "Here."

"Good. Alright, that wraps up the introductions. I'm sure you're all eager to get started with your training, but it's getting late, and you've all had a long flight. You'll go eat dinner and then head to your respective rooms. Our facility here is a little small, so I hope you don't mind sharing rooms. It'll be a good chance to make friends, right? You'll be rooming with the person who shares your number."

Immediately, all of the children looked around for their roommate. Anderson and Bell gave twin squeals of delight and hugged each other. Milligan, the little one, looked at the red-haired McDonnel and cringed.

"I guess we're sharing a room," said a small voice at Jan's side. He looked around to see Carter staring at him with teary eyes. She sniffed loudly and scrubbed her face with the sleeve of her cardigan.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just tired. What's your name? I'm Bella."

"Jan," he replied.

"Jan?" she echoed. "That sounds pretty exotic."

"It's German. Spelled J-A-N, pronounced 'yawn'." There were undertones in his voice that said, 'don't mess it up'.

"This way, children," said their brown-haired attendant. "Follow me in single file. No pushing, Ashlynn."

McDonnel, who had been shoving Milligan along by his collar, scowled and said, "I told you, my name's _Ash_."

Jan joined the end of the line. Ahead of him, the other children were crowded in a big knot, but he stayed a few feet away. He didn't like to touch other people if he could help it, or even get too near them. Back at the orphanage, he'd been able to walk through the cafeteria at lunchtime without bumping into anyone.

And yet there was someone near him. He could feel the presence just behind him, hovering and fragile. It was his 'partner', Bella Carter. Jan sighed and moved a few inches away, reclaiming his personal space. If she was this clingy all the time, he thought, the next five years were going to be a real pain.

**A/N: All right, that's it for the first installment. I'll try to update pretty regularly :) Reviews, as always, are both helpful and highly appreciated. Thanks for reading! ~ Dr. Kitten**


	2. Fight

Chapter 2: Fight

**Hope everyone's still with me, here. I realize the story may be a little slow to start off, but I promise that it'll get more interesting soon. Thanks for reading!  
><strong>

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Trainee Evaluation Set 1_

_Re: Request for additional individual information_

_Trainee A1: Bluff, Tony_

_Big and simple. Has the brawn to make a good soldier, but not the brains to make a good commander. Orphan, never knew his parents, grew up at Beakerton Orphanage in Ohio, USA. Has potential to respond well to training program, if he does not find it too strenuous. _

_Trainee A2: Garcia, Gabriel_

_Quiet and withdrawn, even-tempered. Has a high IQ, even though he has always gotten poor grades in public school. Raised in Spain (bi-lingual). His mother died of cancer three years ago and his father sent him to live with relatives in the USA. They didn't want to keep him and sent him here. He could be harboring hidden resentment from this. We expect him to respond positively to the 'partner' orientation of our program and form strong bonds with the other trainees. _

_Team Conclusions: highly compatible. Bluff has the physical strength to carry out plans that Garcia will undoubtedly construct. Provided the two don't clash emotionally, this will likely be an extremely efficient partnership. _

Supper was bland and uninteresting: a bowl of thin, warm soup with some white chunks floating in it that were supposed to be chicken. A glass of milk. One hard biscuit, unbuttered. Jan ate everything, since he cared less about how his food tasted, and more about not being hungry later.

Next to him, Bella picked at her food. She seemed to be taking the whole 'partnership' thing very seriously, since she had stuck to him like glue since their numbers were announced. Briefly, Jan wondered if she would have been so eager if her partner had been Worthington or McDonnel.

No sooner had he thought this than McDonnel, over on the other side of the room, got to his feet. His partner, Milligan, made as if to stand as well, but the bigger boy pushed him down roughly and growled, "Stay here, runt."

Jan sighed when he saw that McDonnel was heading his way. Since he already had the smallest, youngest boy under his thumb, he was evidently making a play for the next smallest.

McDonnel sat down across the table from him and leaned his elbows on the smooth white surface. He grinned. "So you're the little German punk, huh? Want a bratwurst, runt?"

Jan said nothing and did not make eye contact. He had experienced bullies before. It always went the same: they harassed him until he fought back. And then they found out that he was meaner than they could ever be.

"You think it's okay to come over here and mess up the country, don't you?" McDonnel persisted.

"I was born here," Jan said flatly.

"That don't matter. Your parents were still immigrants."

Time to go, thought Jan. If this keeps up, it's going to get ugly.

He got up, lifted his tray of food, and moved over to the next table. To his annoyance, McDonnel followed him. Damn, the boy was more stubborn than he'd thought. Was he really that desperate to prove himself in his new, unfamiliar surroundings?

"Listen, punk," the redhead growled, snagging Jan's collar in one hand and pulling him up onto his tiptoes. "You don't _ever _walk away from me when I'm talking to you. Get it? Now say you're sorry."

Oh, I'm sorry all right, Jan thought. Sorry that you're an idiot.

"I'm only going to give you one chance," he said quietly, not at all disturbed by the pressure his twisted collar put on his neck, or the fact that an angry boy was breathing right in his face. "Let me go, and I'll forget about this."

"Alright, that's it," McDonnel spat. "You're asking for it!"

From the corner of his eye, Jan could see the brown-haired attendant starting forward, alarmed, no doubt with the intention of protecting the poor little boy who was being picked on. Jan smirked. He wasn't going to give her the change.

He placed his right foot against the bench attached to the table and launched himself upwards, catching McDonnel just under the chin with the top of his head. The boy grunted and staggered back, releasing him. He struck out immediately, but Jan was already ducking even as he landed. He tackled McDonnel around the knees, sending him crashing backwards onto the floor. Before his opponent had a chance to get up, Jan stomped down on his stomach, winding him. McDonnel curled up into a ball, gasping. Jan promptly followed up with a sharp kick to the other boy's face, which was left wide open as he clutched his stomach with both hands. Blood splattered onto the floor.

The brown-haired woman no longer had any ideas of protecting Jan. The hands that grabbed him and pulled him away were full of disapproval. It's funny, he thought, if I'd gotten beaten up, she would have been angry at McDonnel. Now she's angry with me because I defended myself.

"Somebody get Mr. Creed!" she yelled.

McDonnel was sobbing and holding his nose as streams of red ran down his hands and wrists. The other children were staring, some looking horrified, some interested. Jan picked out the interested ones as those capable of causing future trouble: Worthington, the future thug, Carson, with the slicked-back hair, and Chang, the Chinese boy.

Then he glanced at Bella. She hadn't moved from her position, but her wide green eyes were fixed on the bloody floor, and her face was blank and white. Jan didn't have time to wonder what her problem was, however, because a strong, authoritative voice said, "What's going on here?"

"Oh, Mr. Creed!" exclaimed the attendant. "Thank goodness! Jan attacked Ashlynn! I think he may have a broken nose."

Creed ignored McDonnel and crouched down so that he was at eyelevel with Jan. "Is this true, son?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said Jan frankly.

"And why did you do this?"

"He was threatening me, sir." He didn't say it as a complaint, merely an explanation. "I gave him a chance to leave me alone, but he wouldn't. So I hit him."

Creed stood up. "I see." His tone was neutral, and Jan couldn't tell from his face whether punishment was forthcoming.

"Mr. Creed, aren't you going to do something?" demanded the brown-haired woman. "Ashlynn could have been seriously hurt! Jan was merciless!"

"Excellent!" exclaimed Creed, with a sudden smile. "He's adjusting already." He raised his voice to address all the children in the room and said, "Listen up, all of you. This is a military training ground, not a daycare, and you are soldiers now, not little babies. Here, you will be treated like adults and expected to act like them. If you are being bullied, don't come to me and expect help. Deal with your own problems. And if you try to bully someone and fail, well … part of being a soldier is learning how to pick your battles. I have no time to waste on someone who can't realize that. Now, Ms. Peterson, please escort the trainees to their rooms."

"But … but what about Ashlynn?" the brown-haired woman protested. "Shouldn't he at least receive medical attention?"

"The pain will be good for him," Creed replied. "He needs to learn to toughen up if he's going to survive here. Give him some tissues to clean up with and send him to bed."

Creed left the room and Ms. Peterson began to organize them into groups. Most of the other students edged away when Jan approached, which didn't bother him at all. He'd rather be left alone anyway.

But as they marched down the hall, he realized that there was one other person at the end of the line with him: Bella.

"I can't believe Ms. Peterson lied to Mr. Creed about what happened," she murmured. "She made it sound like what happened was your fault."

Mildly surprised, Jan turned to look at her. "You mean you don't think it was my fault?" he said.

Bella shook her head. "No. He was being mean to you. You just stuck up for yourself. It was pretty brave."

Then why did you look so terrified, he wondered, but he only said, "Thanks, I guess. I didn't have much of a choice. If you let someone bully you once, they won't stop."

"Yeah," Bella agreed.

Jan shook his head. Why she liked him so much was beyond him. In the eight years he'd been living at the Anthony Stevens Charity House, he'd never made any friends or even acquaintances. It wasn't that he was hated (well, maybe by a few boys like McDonnel), just not noticed. He doubted that anyone there would even remember him, let along miss him.

Along the hall were periodic doors with numbers on them. At the first door (01), they stopped for a moment and Ms. Peterson unlocked it and sent Bluff and Garcia inside. She smiled after them and called, "Sleep well, boys. I'll come and collect you in the morning."

The two girls, Anderson and Bell, were deposited in room number 02 with a similar farewell. Room 03 belonged to Morgan and Walters, who already seemed to be getting along. Worthington and Carson were dropped off at Room 04. They both made to enter at the same time, but Worthington snarled and shoved rudely past his partner, pushing him into the door frame. Carson, unfazed, entered and shut the door without looking back.

At Room 05, they left Milligan and McDonnel. The redhead was still crying and holding his nose, and he shot a venomous glare back at Jan as he went inside. He wouldn't sleep much tonight, Jan guessed, but at least the pain would keep him from harassing Milligan.

After leaving Greenbay and Chang in Room 06, Jan and Bella were the only pair left. Ms. Peterson unlocked Room 07 for them and stood aside as they entered. It was a small room, more reminiscent of a prison cell than living quarters. There was a bunk bed, a metal box, a small desk with a single chair and a computer (which was currently turned off), and a door on the back wall which probably led to the bathroom.

Jan sat down on the bottom bed and looked around. The door was still open, and Ms. Peterson was standing there, watching him with narrowed eyes. She seemed reluctant to leave him alone with Bella, as though she thought that he'd immediately attack her. But after a few moments, she said, "Goodnight, you two. I'll be here in the morning." She gave Jan an extra cold look for good measure. Then she shut the door, locking it behind her.


	3. Conversations

Chapter Three: Conversations

**Hope everyone's hanging in there and not too bored ;) I've got one review, that's good. Yeah, if you haven't all figured it out yet, Jan is HUNK as a kid. At least, that's how I imagined that he'd be. And after hearing him speak in German in Operation Raccoon City, I decided that his nationality couldn't be anything but. His German voice is awesome! Everyone who owns that game should try it out! Anyway, onto the story. Thanks for reading!**

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Trainee Evaluation Set 2_

_Re: Request for additional individual information_

_Trainee 2A: Anderson, Cynthia Annette_

_Bubbly personality, sweet and happy. Born to an underage mother and sent specifically to live at the foster care home run by her maternal grandmother. Her mother visits her often and is a positive influence on her life. May be unable to cope with more violent aspects of the training program. _

_Trainee 2B: Bell, Brenda_

_Outgoing and social. Mother died giving birth to her, father (an Air Force pilot) died in combat several years later. Sent to live at the Shady Spring Foster Care, where she was popular and well-liked. We predict that she will function well in group activities. _

_Team Evaluation: An ideal match: they are best friends, and have known each other since they were babies. Can be depended on to cooperate well and watch out for each other. Note: if one of them doesn't respond well to training, the other may choose not to as well. _

"Jan, do you want the bottom bed or the top bed?" Bella asked, walking over to stand in front of him.

He shrugged. "I don't care."

"Well then, I'll take the top," she said.

"Fine." Jan looked down at the bed he was sitting on. The blanket was thin and plain grey, but it looked relatively comfortable. He lifted up the flat pillow and saw a pair of black flannel pajamas. Picking them up, he went into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it just in case. There was a toilet, a trashcan, and a metal sink attached to the wall. A mirror hung over it.

_No shower, _Jan noticed with disappointment. _I guess they don't want us wasting water. _

He washed his face and cleaned his teeth with the brush he had brought with him, one of the few personal possessions he'd brought with him from Anthony Stevens (the Ass House, some of it's inhabitants called it; in truth, it wasn't that bad, besides the fact that their spelling was poor. It should have been As). The other things he'd brought were a change of clothes, a pocketknife he'd found once, and an old photo of his mother. He kept it mostly so he wouldn't forget what she looked like.

Jan stripped down to his shorts and put on the pajamas. They were several sizes too big for him; the cuffs covered his hands and the bottoms dragged on the ground. The extra cloth annoyed him, so he took his pocketknife, which he kept sharp, and trimmed off a few inches. The edges were uneven, but he didn't care.

He looked in the mirror. A pale, tired-looking boy stared back at him out of large blue eyes, the color of ice under water. His hair, cut quite short, was white-blonde. He had a thin face, already deprived of its baby fat, with a straight nose, firm lips, and strong bones. He was already a good-looking boy, and would grow up to be very handsome, but he had no idea of that, nor would he have cared if he had known. Looks meant nothing to him one way or another.

Slowly, he ran one hand up the right side of his narrow chest from his stomach, feeling ribs that stood out more than they should have. He stopped half-way up. There was a small, round scar under his fingertips. It almost never hurt anymore, but he was always aware of it. There was a matching, if slightly larger, scar on his back. Both of them were made by the same bullet, which had pierced his small body eight years before, fired by a gun held in his father's hands. The previous bullet had gone straight through his mother's heart. The next bullet had pierced his father's brain. Three bullets, and a family was destroyed. But he had lived, miraculously. The only survivor.

A knock on the door made him look around. Bella's voice said, "Jan, are you done yet? I need to use the bathroom."

He pulled down his shirt and opened the door, brushing wordlessly past her. The room was already dark (Ms. Peterson had turned out the lights when she locked them in), but there was a nightlight by the bathroom door. By it's dim glow, he made his way to the bed and lay down, pulling the covers up to his chin. He closed his eyes.

A few minutes later, he heard Bella walk past him and climb the ladder to the second bed. She shuffled around for a while before settling down.

"Goodnight, Jan," she said.

"Goodnight," he muttered.

"Sleep well."

"Mm."

There was a long period of silence. Jan was just about to drift off to sleep when she spoke again. "Hey …"

He had to stifle an irritated groan. _Can't this girl just leave me alone? I'm tired, I want to sleep. _"What?" he said.

"Did you want to come here?" she asked. "I mean, did they ask you first? Or did they just tell you after they signed you up."

"They just told me."

"Me too. I didn't want to come, but they said it was either that or get sent back to my Uncle. I didn't like him … that's why I got sent to the orphanage in the first place."

"Huh."

"What about you?"

_None of your business, _he was tempted to say. But he held back, because logic prompted him to be kind to this girl, since he was going to have to work with her for the next five years.

"I've lived in an orphanage since I can remember," he said. "I didn't mind it there, but I didn't care if I left either."

"Didn't you have any friends there?"

"No, not really."

"That must have been hard," she said sympathetically.

"Not really. I don't like people."

She sniffed, sounding hurt, "Do you dislike me?"

"Well, no." _Not yet, anyway. But keep this up and you'll be getting there, _he added mentally.

"Oh good," she said and was mercifully silent after that. Jan heard her breathing soften and slow. She whimpered once or twice in her sleep, as if she was having a nightmare, but eventually settled down. With the room quiet at last, Jan could finally rest. As always, he slept soundly and without dreams.

The next morning, Jan was woken by a man's voice blaring the following message on a loudspeaker: "Rise and shine, soldiers! The time is 0720. You have five minutes to get up and dressed before Ms. Peterson comes to get you. Anyone who isn't ready won't get breakfast."

Jan was awake within seconds. He got out of bed and quickly pulled his relatively unrumpled sheets straight. The was a rustling from the upper bunk, and a sleepy face poked over the edge, brown hair hanging down next to her cheeks.

"'Morning," Bella mumbled.

Jan nodded to her. "Better get up," he said. "We've got about four minutes now." After a moment's thought, he added, "If we both use the bathroom, it'll take too long. You go ahead."

"Really? Thanks!" she said with a bright smile. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she hopped down, squeaking as her bare feet hit the cold floor. She hopped awkwardly into the bathroom and shut the door.

Jan dressed in his spare change of clothes (jeans and a black t-shirt). He was just lacing up his boots when the door of their room opened and Ms. Peterson appeared. She had apparently still not forgiven him for yesterday's fight, for her voice was chilly as she said, "Good morning, Jan."

He didn't reply. He couldn't be bothered to be polite to adults who weren't in positions of authority over him, and it was obvious that she was nothing more than an attendant for them. Ms. Peterson frowned but didn't press the matter.

"Where's Bella?" she asked suspiciously.

_What, do you think I killed her? _Jan thought. He was saved from answering by his partner's appearance out of the bathroom. She had brushed her hair and tied it back in a little ponytail.

"Sorry!" she gasped. "I'm ready now."

"Alright," said Ms. Peterson. "Let's go."

She led the way down the hall, with the trainees marching after like a group of goslings after a mother goose. Jan and Bella joined the end of the line. Most of the children were quiet and groggy, unused to waking up at such early hours, although Anderson and Bell were chattering together. Jan noticed with satisfaction that McDonnel's face was puffy, and his nose was still red. Then he saw that Milligan was sporting a black eye.

In the cafeteria, they were served bowls of clumpy, tasteless oatmeal and glasses of orange juice. Bella tasted hers, made a face, and spat it out again.

"This is disgusting," she complained to no one in particular. "They could have at least put raisins in it." She eyed Jan, who was eating stoically. "How can you stand that stuff?"

"Iss food," he replied through a full mouth.

"Technically, yeah. But just barely."

Breakfast was far more peaceful than dinner had been. There were no more attempts to bully anyone, and no more fights. Once most of them had finished their oatmeal, Creed entered the room, accompanied by a short, stocky, black-haired man with a week's growth of hair on his face. He had a friendly, red face and relaxed manner, and he seemed lazy next to the brisk, businesslike Creed.

"Attention, everyone," boomed Creed. "I want you all to meet Daniel Barret. He's your other teacher. I want you all to show as much respect for him as you have for me."

"Yes, sir!" some of the more on-top-of-it children called. The others followed up hastily. Creed smiled.

"I see that you're all eager to start. Well, then, let's go. Line up, and we'll take you to your very first lesson."

The Chinese boy, Chang, raised his hand. "Sir, what _is _the first lesson?" he asked.

Creed's eyes gleamed. "We're going to teach you all how to shoot a gun," he said.


	4. Gunshot

Chapter Four: Gunshot

**Wow, thanks to all those who reviewed! I'm glad that people like this story ... I was afraid that it wouldn't interest you guys :) Well, here's the next chapter, right on time. Keep letting me know what you think. Oh, and as an extra bonus, check out the song Gunshot. It's on YouTube, it's the ending credits for the RE game Dead Aim. Anyway ... enjoy!**

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Trainee Evaluation Set 2_

_Re: Request for additional individual information_

_Trainee 3A: Morgan, Emery Eric_

_Typical class clown and goof-off. His mother left when he was a child, and he was raised by his father in rural Kentucky. When he was seven, his father died in a hunting accident, and he was sent to the Shady Spring Foster Care. Strongly feels the lack of parental influence, particularly paternal. Inclined to joke around and slack off. No work ethic. We do not believe he will respond positively to the program. _

_Trainee 3B: Walters, David Madison_

_Intelligent in an intellectual way, but has no street smarts or practical knowledge. A prime candidate for bullying and harassment. He was signed up for the program by his father, who wants him to 'man up and grow a spine'. We predict that he will struggle with the physical aspects of the program. _

_Team Evaluation: Subjects are likely to become friends, and may work well together if motivated by definite goals. However, because neither is physically strong, they will almost certainly not be the most effective team among the trainees. _

The shooting range was a long room with a number of different booths at one end and a wall full of human-shaped target boards at the other. In each of the booths, Jan could see a pair of earplugs with goggles attached hanging up, and a black pistol lying on the inner table.

"Listen up!" said Creed. "Mr. Barret here is our guns expert, so I'm going to turn the instruction over to him."

The short, black-haired man clapped his hands. "Alright, kiddies. Here's how it is. Who is a soldier's best friend?"

Walters raised his hand. "His partner?" he hazarded.

"Good guess, but no," said Barret. "You won't always have your teammates around to back you up in a combat situation. Sad but true. You've got to learn to be self-reliant. That means, essentially, learning how to become one with your gun. You need to be so well-acquainted with your firearm that you know everything about it: exactly how many shots you can fire before you have to reload, exactly how far away you can stand from your enemy and still get a good headshot, everything. Eventually, you may have your own custom weapons that you carry with you, but for now, you're going to learn on this: the Smith and Wesson SD9. About one-and-a-half pounds and smooth shooting, so it shouldn't be too heavy for any of you. Okay, so who here already thinks they know how to shoot?"

Four of the trainees raised their hands: Worthington and McDonnel (big surprise there), Carson (thought so), and, surprisingly, Morgan.

Barret grinned, showing off large, even white teeth. "Ever shot a person? It's okay, I won't tell."

Only Worthington and Carson kept their hands up, but Jan was willing to bet money that Worthington was bluffing. Carson he wasn't so sure of. The quiet boy with slicked-back hair had a cold, steely inner core. Jan could see it in his eyes. Who knows, he might even have killed before.

"Alright, you five. Tell us your shooting experiences," said Creed. "You first, Morgan."

"My dad used to take me hunting," said Morgan. "I had a BB gun that I'd shoot rats with, and once time I helped him kill a deer."

"Fair enough," said Barret. "Next, McDonnel."

"My dad always had guns around the house," said the redhead. "He used to let me and my friends borrow them. We'd go out and shoot beer bottles off of railings."

"Alright, fine. Worthington?"

"You should know," Worthington sneered. "It's in my police record."

Barret's smile grew larger. "Go ahead, tell your fellow trainees."

"My big bro was a gangbanger, alright," he said loudly. "He let me go with him on a drive-by when I was nine. I shot a guy in the leg."

Jan almost laughed, but he held himself back just in time. _You idiot, _he thought, _do you really think these men will be impressed by your wannabe crimes? If you really had done that, you wouldn't be here right now. You'd be in juvie. _

"Well, here you're going to learn how to shoot to _kill_," said Barret. "Carson, what was your experience?"

Carson blinked his dark eyes and said calmly, "Earlier this year, I shot a man who broke into my house and was trying to rape my older sister."

"Where did you shoot him?" The look in Barret's eye said that he already knew the answer.

"In the head," said Carson. Next to Jan, Bella shivered in fear as his remorseless tone. No doubt the others thought it was frightening to hear a boy no older than they were speaking of murder in such a practical tone, but Jan was impressed. _That's what I would have done, given the chance. _

"Well," said Barret. "It seems that a couple of you are already on your way to becoming good soldiers. Carson's got the right attitude: you must never allow yourself to regret a kill, because everyone you kill will be for the good of your cause. Now, let's get started. Pick a booth, put on your goggles, and start firing. At first, I just want you to try to hit the target right across from you-"

"That'll be easy," interrupted Worthington.

"But eventually, we'll move up to moving targets," continued Barret without missing a beat. "Try to get headshots if you can. Okay, move it!"

Jan headed for the booth nearest him, but McDonnel put on a burst of speed and made it in before him. "This one's mine, runt," he said with a nasty curl of his lips.

Jan shrugged and picked a different one. As long as the redhead wasn't directly attacking him, he wasn't interested in fighting. It would just lead to more injuries for the other boy, and possible punishment for him. Besides, he knew was McDonnel was trying to do: isolate him from the group and undercut his potential authority over the others. But since he didn't have any authority in the first place, it was a stupid plan. How can you isolate someone who has already chosen isolation?

He glanced to his right, and was unsurprised to discover that Bella was in the booth next to his. She was looking at the gun as if it was going to bite her.

Jan picked his up. It felt heavy in his hand - heavier than the one-and-a-half pounds Barret had claimed. He flicked the safety off (although he had never held a gun before, he knew how to do that much from what he'd read and seen on TV) and hefted it, holding it out in front of him with his arms straight and both hands loosely clenched on the grip.

There was a loud bang on the other side of the room. Bella jumped and uttered a little squeak. Carson was holding a smoking pistol, and there was a hole in the center of the chest of his target.

As if his shot was a signal, the other trainees began firing. Jan aimed his S&W carefully and pulled the trigger. The recoil made the bones in his hands ache and sent shockwaves up to his shoulder. He squinted at the target. _Did I hit it? _

Close: he had aimed at the head, not wanting anything less than a perfect shot, and missed it by only two inches. He fired again. This time the bullet drilled through the target's cheek area. Again, and the shot was dead center. Right through the brain. The enemy is dead.

He put down the gun, feeling satisfied. The other trainees targets (and the walls around them) were speckled with holes. Jan was the only one who had managed to get a headshot.

He looked at Bella's target. It was as whole and healthy as when they had started. In fact, she hadn't even picked up her S&W. She was still staring at it, hands pressed over her ears to block out the noise of gunshots. Barret was heading towards her with a tightly furrowed brow.

Jan jumped out of his booth and intercepted the teacher. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "Permission to assist Trainee 7B? She seems to be having trouble."

Barret blinked at him. "Who are you, son?"

"Trainee 7A, Jan Wittman, sir. I'm Carter's partner."

"And which booth is yours, Trainee 7A, Jan Wittman?" the man asked with only a touch of mockery in his voice.

Jan pointed. "That one, sir."

Barret's indulgent smile changed to a look of amazement as he saw Jan's target. "You did that?" he confirmed.

"Yes, sir."

"Permission granted." And with that, Barret turned and strode away to correct Greenbay on his grip.

Jan stepped up into Bella's booth. He wasn't quite sure what he had in mind, only that he didn't want the teachers harassing her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, speaking loudly so that his voice would carry past the racket.

She looked around at him with wide, terrified eyes and shook her head. "I can't."

Jan frowned. Obviously, something had happened to this girl to scare her. This wasn't normal nervousness; it was the paralyzing fear of a mouse held in a snake's hypnotic gaze.

_I've got to do something to get her out of this state, _he thought. _Otherwise she'll always be a burden to me. _

"It's okay," he said awkwardly. "I'll help you. Here." He lifted the pistol and put it in her hand. She gripped it reflexively.

"Good. Now lift it. Aim."

Her hands shook. He stood behind her and put his right hand over hers, helping her hold the gun steady.

"There, that's right. Point at the target. Now pull the trigger."

"I can't!" she cried, jerking away from him and dropping the gun. He grabbed it out of the air and held it back out to her.

"You can. Come on."

"No!"

For a moment, she met his eyes and they stared each other down.

"Why not?" Jan asked again. "Why won't you?"

"I don't want to," she said brokenly. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to shoot anyone."

"It's not a person, Bella. It's a target. Just a target. Look." In his desire to calm her, he didn't even realize that he'd used her name for the first time. But Bella noticed. She gulped past the lump in her throat and took a deep breath.

"I'll … I'll try."

"Okay. Good." He put his hand over hers again and this time, he made sure that his finger was over hers on the trigger. "We'll do it together, okay?"

Bella nodded. "Okay."

"Alright. On the count of three. Ready? One. Two. Three!"

His finger tensed a little, but it was she who pulled the trigger. There was a sharp bang, and her hands jumped with the recoil. There was a new hole in the target, right in the neck.

"Hey," said Jan. "Good shot, Bella. Nice one."

"You aimed it," she said hesitantly.

"Nope, that was you all the way."

She was crying now, but not out of fear. There was something like relief in her eyes. "Thank you, Jan," she sobbed. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "No problem. You can do it yourself now, right?"

"Yeah," she said, looking determined. "Yeah, I can do it now."

"Good," he said, and headed back to his own booth. No need to limit himself to one headshot, after all.


	5. Racing

Chapter Five: Racing

**Alright! Longest chapter yet! I hope this story is a fun to read as it is to write. Enjoy! :)**

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Trainee Evaluation Set 4_

_Re: Request for additional individual information_

_Trainee 4A: Worthington, Gregory_

_A wannabe tough kid with an inferiority complex. He thinks that the only way to get recognition is to be meaner than everyone else. Also a pathological liar, tending to build on truth and exaggerate. Raised in the Bronx, he has an older brother who was part of a gang and is now doing prison time for sale of narcotics. Subject looked up to his older brother, who would take him along on drug runs. Subject does not respond well to authority, although he will excel in the program itself if we can break him of his rebellious streak first. _

_Trainee 4B: Carson, James Edwin_

_Calm and cool to the point of being almost emotionless. True soldier material, and the most likely of the trainees to finish the program with any future use. Orphaned at a young age, he was raised by his adult half-sister, for whom he has considerable affection. He came to our attention because of an incident in January of this year, in which he shot and killed a man who broke into his house with the intent of sexually assaulting his sister. Subject caught the perpetrator in the act and disposed of him, but never tried to lie about it or hide the body. He was given a choice between being arrested and charged with the shooting and signing up for the program, and he chose the latter._

_Team Evaluation: Likely to be the most effective team because of the temperaments of both partners. As long as Trainee 4A respects 4B and doesn't overstep his boundaries, they will probably get along well. If there is an attempt as bullying, it will end disastrously for Trainee 4A. We have considered the possibility that Trainee 4B's attitude will rub off on 4A with positive results._

After an hour of shooting practice, Creed stopped them and had them line up by the door.

"Okay," he said. "Let's review the results. Bluff, you fired 83 times. 39 of those shots missed the target completely, and 22 were non-fatal wounds to the arms and legs. Hmm … not great. You need to improve your accuracy. As Mr. Barret said, here we shoot to kill.

"Garcia, you fired exactly 50 shots, and 44 of them were direct hits to the torso. Two missed, and four were headshots. That's pretty good. Why exactly 50?"

"I didn't want to waste ammo," said the Spanish boy simply.

"Okay, good thinking there. In the field, you can't afford to burn your ammo supplies too quickly. Additionally, your accuracy made up for your partner's lack of it. Good work. Okay, Anderson … 28 shots in an entire hour? Explain that."

"My hands got tired, Mr. Creed," said Anderson. Sweat was running down her round face.

Creed shook his finger at her. "That's not acceptable, Anderson. A soldier can't just give up because she's tired. However, I'll let it slide this time because your accuracy was exceptional: no misses, 20 fatal shots to the torso and eight to the head.

"Bell, you fired 39 shots. Your accuracy was lower than Anderson's, but still decent. Ten misses, but they were close. 22 torso hits, five leg hits, and one each to the arm and the head.

"Morgan … _you _were an ammo waster. 107 shots fired, and only 30 of them hit the target? No headshots. Some of your bullets hit up to two feet away from the target. You're using a pistol, not a machine gun. That sort of poor performance is not permitable."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Morgan, looking downcast for the first time since his arrival. He had been enjoying himself in the range, thinking of it more as a fun activity than as training.

"Walters," Creed continued, pacing down the line, "you also disappoint me. 33 shots fired, but only seven hits? You need to do better. Granted, six out of your seven shots were fatal, but still.

"Worthington, you were decent. 65 shots fired, 51 hits, 5 headshots. That's a good start. Carson, on the other hand, did very well. 58 shots, every single one a fatal hit to either torso or head. Brilliant."

Worthington gave his partner a jealous glare, which Carson blatantly ignored. Creed continued down the line, although he must have been aware of the exchange. Clearly, he had no compunction about setting the trainees at each other's throats.

"McDonnel, you were also decent, although not quite as good as Worthington," he said. "More shots fired, but fewer of them hit the target. Milligan, I'm afraid your accuracy was the worst of all. Not only did you fire a mere 18 shots, but not a single one of them hit the target. Why?"

Milligan stared at the floor and said in a tiny voice, "The gun hurt my hands, sir. And I couldn't see the tawget."

_Of course he couldn't, _thought Jan. _That puffy eye that McDonnel gave him must be screwing with his sight. _

"You must try harder," said Creed. "Not only is your poor performance a shame to yourself, but it also reflects badly on your partner McDonnel. In the field, there may come a time when you have to use your skills to save your teammates' lives. If that time comes, you don't want to miss."

Milligan nodded, looking smaller than ever. "Yes, sir. I'll work harder, I pwomise."

"That's what I want to hear," Creed said. He even gave Milligan a little pat on the head before moving on. "Now, Greenbay. You fired the second-highest number of rounds, at 97, but your accuracy was much better than Morgan's. Precisely 60 hits, 40 of them fatal. That's good. Chang … 45 bullets, 45 hits. Every single one of them to the crotch of your target. Would you like to explain your reasoning?"

Chang smiled. "Sir, I chose the spot on the target that I thought would hurt the most to get shot in, sir."

_So, a boy that enjoys causing pain, _thought Jan. _Not because of the results, but just because he enjoys the sensation. He is a dangerous one. Far more dangerous than McDonnel or Worthington, who bully because they're insecure. Maybe even more dangerous than Carson, who has killed before. _

"It's all very well to cause pain," said Creed, choosing his words carefully. "But unless you're part of a torture and interrogation unit, it's more effective to kill with every bullet. You don't want your opponent's alive to get revenge on you."

"Yes, sir," said Chang, not losing his grin. "Point taken, sir."

"Alright, moving on. Wittman, your accuracy was also far beyond normal. You only fired 36 rounds, which is below average, but 35 of them were headshots. Next to Carson and Garcia, you have the highest fatality count. I'm impressed. However, you can't afford to be so focused on getting a perfect shot that you miss other opportunities to kill. If you had been less picky, you might have gotten more kills."

Jan nodded. "Yes, sir." _I already knew that. _

"And last we come to Carter," said Creed. His eyes narrowed. "You were the last of the trainees to start firing, although your hit ratio after you began was acceptable. Why did you hesitate?"

"I was nervous, sir," Bella mumbled. "I've never held a gun before."

"Neither have most of your fellow trainees, but they didn't freeze up. Explain yourself."

Bella looked up at him helplessly. "I just … I was scared, sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"It had better not," said Creed ominously. "In the field, hesitation means death. Reluctance to kill means death. You have to devote every fiber of your being to eliminating your enemy in whatever way possible. No matter what. Do you understand?"

Bella nodded.

"Okay, follow me!" Creed called, taking his place at the beginning of the line. They marched out the door and down the hall, entering an even larger room. The domed roof was made of paneled glass in between struts of metal, giving it a fly's eye appearance. Around the edge of the room was a track, maybe five feet wide, with a rubber surface. In the center was a bunch of equipment for weightlifting and exercising. Two of the walls were outfitted for climbing, one with ropes and one with handholds that got smaller the further towards the top you got.

"This is the gym," Creed announced, spreading his arms to indicate the room. "You'll spend two hours in here every day. You may do whatever you want during that time, as long as you're not resting. If you get thirsty, there are water fountains over there."

Anderson raised her hand. "What if we get hungry, sir?" she asked. Her stomach growled as she spoke, and she blushed.

Creed smirked. "You should have eaten more of your breakfast, Anderson."

The chubby girl looked away and muttered something that sounded like 'but it tasted like crap'.

"Well?" Creed said, glancing around. "Get going, all of you! Move!"

They poured out onto the gym floor. Bluff headed straight for the ten pound weights and started lifting them, while the girls (besides Bella, who as usual was right beside Jan) were more interested in the rock wall.

Morgan and Walters had teamed up to organize a race. So far they had recruited Garcia, Greenbay, Chang, and Milligan, and they were scouting around for other potential runners. Morgan's eye lit on Jan and he called, "Hey you! Shorty! Wanna join our race?"

Jan was about to say that he didn't when Bella grabbed his arm and exclaimed, "Ooh, let's! I love racing!"

Jan sighed and allowed her to tow him over to the start-up line. He just didn't feel like arguing with her about it. Besides, he could show them a thing or two when it came to running. Despite his modest size, he'd been the fastest boy at Anthony Stevens.

They lined up in a row next to the first drinking fountain. "One loop around the track, and the first one back here wins," said Morgan. "On my word. Ready, steady, run!"

Jan sprinted forward. The rubber track was springy under his boots, and he flew forward in leaps and bounds. He was ahead from the very beginning, and although Garcia matched him for the first couple yards, the Spanish boy soon fell behind.

When he had made it three-quarters of the way around the track without being overtaken, he decided that he could relax a bit. They were all eating his metaphorical dust by now. No one was going to catch up.

He was only several feet away from the finish line, however, when something flashed past his right side. He pulled up short, taken aback, just in time to see Bella dash across the line ahead of him. She stumbled to a halt, laughing breathlessly, and threw her hands in the air. He noticed for the first time that she had taken off her shoes prior to starting the race.

The other children came panting up, Garcia in the lead. The Spanish boy raised an eyebrow and said in his soft voice, "You're fast, Carter."

"It comes from running barefoot on hot asphalt," she explained, pushing back the hair that had come loose during the race. "My name's Bella, by the way."

"I'm Gabriel," he said, extending a dark hand. Bella shook it, smiling at him. Jan felt a curious sensation in the pit of his stomach and turned away. He wasn't sure why, but it annoyed him that Bella told the Spanish boy her first name.

"Good race," wheezed Morgan. "I bet Shorty thought he had it won there." He chortled at his own wittiness.

"Don't call him Shorty," Bella bristled. "His name's Jan, okay? And he would have won if he hadn't slowed down a bit at the end. I couldn't have caught up to him otherwise."

_No need to remind me, _Jan thought grumpily. He walked away, heading for the ropes. A few moments later, Bella caught up with him, looking anxious.

"Are you mad at me, Jan?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"Then why are you walking away?"

He shrugged. "I just felt like doing something else. You know, just because we're partners doesn't mean that you have to follow me around. You can go and do what you want to." _Take the hint, please, _he begged her inwardly.

Bella was oblivious. "I know, but I don't want to do anything else. I'd rather do what you're doing."

_Ugh, _he thought, grabbing ahold of one of the knotted ropes and hauling himself upwards. _At this rate, I'll never get rid of her. _

When he reached the top of the rope, he looked down. Bella was below him, dangling upside down from the next rope over, with her legs, bare to the knee, twined around it. She noticed him watching her and smiled, holding out her hands with fingers spread to demonstrate that she didn't need them to keep herself up. The unexpected thought crossed Jan's mind that she looked pretty with her cheeks flushed and her hair hanging down below her head, but he forgot it almost as soon because she had let go of the rope. Alarmed, he watched as she dropped down and did a little flip in the air before landing elegantly on the rubber track. She bounced a few times and laughed at the look on his face.

"Did I scare you?" she asked as he jumped down as well, landing in a crouch the way he'd learned to whenever falling from a decent height.

"No," he said, refusing to give her the satisfaction of admitting that for one second, he had been worried. Bella clearly didn't believe him, but she was kind enough not to tease him about it.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go try out that springboard."


	6. First Test

Chapter Six: First Test

**Okay, we've got a bit more action in this one. Hope nobody's getting bored _ I know that it's building slowly, but I felt like I couldn't rush things. Anyway, please enjoy! **

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Trainee Evaluation Set 4_

_Re: Request for additional individual information_

_Trainee 5A: McDonnel, Ashlynn_

_A classic bully, who talks big but is actually a weak coward. His mother committed suicide when he was three, and his father has been in and out of jail all his life. Subject has many sore points, including his name, which he considers to be 'too feminine'. Doesn't have the temperament to be a successful soldier. _

_Trainee 5B: Milligan, Peter Carl_

_The smallest and weakest of our selected trainees, a timid, sweet-natured boy. Orphaned from birth, he was adopted but sent back because the family was unable to keep him. Has borderline abandonment issues, and is mentally undeveloped. _

_Team Evaluation: Deliberately dysfunctional. By putting Trainee 5B in a situation where he has to constantly watch out for himself and reinforcing the message that no one will help him, we plan to force him to become self-reliant. If he survives, he will either be mentally unstable or an extremely effective soldier._

A week passed, and Jan found himself settling into a routine. He rose at exactly 0720 every day, went to the cafeteria with the other trainees, and ate a boring, nutritious breakfast. Then he went to the range, where he spent the allotted hour honing his shooting skills. Within a few days, he had soared past Garcia and was tied with Carson for the number of 'kills' he got, although he considered himself to be better than Carson, since he specifically concentrated on getting headshots.

Then he went to the gym and worked out until 1100 hours, cycling between the rope wall, the track, and the weights. He participated in several more races, and each time, he made sure to continue at full speed all the way to the finish line. No more carelessness.

After two hours in the gym, the trainees were sent to the showers to wash off the sweat. This was the only time that he and Bella were separated. On the first day, a small group of boys (spearheaded by Chang, who quickly developed a reputation as the 'pervert' of the group) attempted to spy on the girls' showers, and was intercepted by an angry Ms. Peterson, who sent them packing.

They ate lunch precisely at 1200, and from 1230 to 1345 they were allowed to mingle in the break room, talking or playing games. The trainees separated almost immediately into different groups, the largest of which was made up of Bluff, Garcia, Morgan, Walters, Greenbay, and Chang, who all got along to some degree. Anderson and Bell, who were best friends, stuck to each other and stayed away from the boys. Worthington and Carson, although they were partners, clearly didn't enjoy each other's company, although it seemed they had developed a mutual respect. At least, Worthington respected Carson and Carson left him alone. Jan strongly suspected that there had been some incident between them that convinced Worthington that it was smarter not to mess with the other boy.

McDonnel also kept mostly to himself, although he continued to harass the smaller boys. Walters was more or less protected by the group of bigger boys, and McDonnel's broken nose reminded him not to lay hands on Jan, but Milligan was undefended and caught the brunt of his abuse. Every day, the little boy sported some new bruise or scrape, and Jan could tell that he was having a rough time of it. He didn't dare try to integrate himself into the group of larger boys for fear of retribution later, when he was alone with his tormentor in their room at night.

At 1345, they left the break room and proceeded to the sparring area. There they received a three hour lesson (with a fifteen minute break every hour) in movement and a martial art called CQC (standing for Close Quarters Combat). They were required to learn how to roll forward, backward, and sideways from standing, as well as master various basic combat techniques. From the second day onward, Creed, who trained them, had them fight practice bouts which more often than not ended with blood being drawn. Jan himself always emerged victorious and uninjured, except for minor bruises, but the others were not so lucky. Bluff got several fingers broken during a match with Chang, and McDonnel fainted dead away after being elbowed in the nose by Carson. Jan noticed with interest, though, that Creed never made trainees fight against their partners. He was relived about that, because it meant that he never had to fight against Bella, and he somehow didn't think that hurting her would be as easy as hurting the others.

By the time they finished their combat training, it was 1830, and they went to the showers once again to clean up. At 1900, they went to the cafeteria and ate dinner. They were finished at 1930, and Ms. Peterson escorted them back to their rooms. The lights, which were on a controlled timer, went out at 2000 hours. By that time, Jan was already in bed and falling asleep. It wasn't that he was worn out from the day's activities - he just didn't want to have to talk to Bella.

After a week of constantly being around her, he had very conflicting feelings. She irritated and exasperated him, but he always stopped short of making a sharp or cruel reply. He assumed it was because she was his partner, and that meant he was supposed to treat her well. But really, whether he knew it or not, the reason he was kind to Bella was because on some level, he liked her. And the reason that he liked her was that she liked him, completely and unconditionally, for who he was. She was the first person he had ever met who felt that way. She never tried to make him change or be something he wasn't.

On the seventh day of their training, they rose as usual at 0720 and ate breakfast in the cafeteria. But when it came time for them to line up and head to the shooting range, Creed had an announcement to make.

"We're going to do something different today," he said. "It's called RCS: Realistic Combat Simulation. This will be the first test of the abilities that you've been cultivating for the last week. Here's how it will work: each of you will be equipped with a D-20 Non-lethal Pistol that shoots paralyzing darts, a blunt practice knife, and a blast helmet. You will be working as teams, and your goal is to 'kill' as many opponents as you can without being 'killed'. You get ten points for every opponent that you incapacitate. However, if your partner gets 'killed', you can no longer make points off of 'kills'. You can still take out the other trainees, but it won't count for anything. At the end, the team with the highest score will get the rest of the day off. Now, follow me to the simulation room and we'll get started."

The simulation room was a multi-leveled maze, with corridors, ramps, ladders, and holes to jump down through. In the center was a tower with a conical roof and a balcony with a solid railing around the edges. Jan instantly knew that the basic strategy was to control the tower, the only defensible spot in the room. If he was up there, he could sit back behind cover and pick off the trainees below with his pistol.

They were issued their equipment and deployed at various points throughout the maze. The D-20 was shaped like a regular pistol, but it was orange and black in color. The sides of the grip were clear, and he could see the darts stacked inside. They looked like needles, with barbed tips so they would go through clothing and stuck wherever they hit. By his estimation, he had about thirty shots before he was out of ammo; easily enough to take out all the other trainees if his accuracy was good.

His and Bella's starting point was on the lowest level, which suited Jan just fine. He'd rather not be up on one of the catwalks, where he could see everyone but everyone could also see him.

Creed blew a whistle: their signal to begin. There were two ways to go ahead of them - a ramp that led upwards, and a corridor to the right. Jan chose the second one and set out, moving as quietly as he could and turning the corners with his gun first.

Right off the bat, he happened upon Morgan and Walters, who seemed to be having an argument about where they should go next. Neither of them noticed Jan. He lined up the shot and fired, hitting Walters right in the shoulder. The skinny boy dropped like a stone. Morgan shouted in surprise and stared wildly around, not even raising his gun.

_Too easy, _thought Jan as he fired again. The D-20 was almost totally silent, making only a slightly clicking noise when he pulled the trigger. Morgan was down, a dart sticking out of his chest. Jan would have preferred headshots, but the helmets prevented him from getting them.

"Two down, ten to go," he said. "Come on, Bella."

There was no reply. Jan looked around.

He was alone. No Bella standing right behind him, and he, who was usually very perceptive, hadn't noticed. How long had she been gone? Just now, or from the very beginning? He had gotten so used to her presence that he hadn't even bothered to check if she was there.

"Shit!" he muttered. _I can't call out for her. That would attract attention. I'll just have to retrace my steps. I just hope she hasn't gotten into trouble or been eliminated already. _

He ducked around the corner and almost ran straight into her. She squeaked and stumbled backwards, tripping and falling on her butt. Jan groaned.

"Where have you been, Bella?"

"S-sorry," she stammered, getting back up. "My shoe came untied and I had to stop to fix it. I tried to say something to you, but you were in such a hurry that you didn't hear me."

"Alright, well … just stick close to me, okay? And keep an eye out behind us."

She nodded, and Jan turned around once again and continued further into the maze. Bella said nothing as they passed by Morgan and Walters, who were rigid and unmoving on their backs. Only their eyes moved around.

Jan passed by several ramps, content to stay down below. But the corridor he'd chosen ended in a blank wall, and he had to go back. He found a different corridor and went through it, with Bella on his heels. It opened onto a wide space, and on the other side was a door that led into the tower. Jan checked around and saw no one. He was about to leave cover and make a dash for the tower when Anderson and Bell appeared from a corridor on the other side of the area. Moments later, first one girl and then the other fell to the ground. There were two darts in the base of their necks, right above the collarbone.

_Someone's in the tower already, _Jan realized. _I'll have to give up on that idea. _

He was about to retreat when something heavy pressed against his back. He spun around just in time to catch Bella as she fell forward. There was a dart in her back. Looking up, he saw Chang and Greenbay at the other end of their corridor. The Chinese boy was the one who had shot Bella.

Jan rolled to the side just as Chang shot again. He fired back, but it was a hasty shot and it missed the other boy's head by a few inches.

_This is bad, _Jan thought. _I'm outnumbered two-to-one, and I have no place to take cover. But if I bail out into the open area, I'll be sniped by whoever's in the tower. _

Chang was aiming again, with the slow deliberation of a cat who knows he's caught his mouse. But Greenbay suddenly cried out and pointed his gun at someone out of Jan's sight. A moment later, he was down. Chang instantly pressed his back to the wall and started blind-firing around the corner.

_You made a mistake to ignore me, _thought Jan and he pulled the trigger. Chang fell sideways across Greenbay's legs with a soft thump, still clutching his gun. _Too bad I won't get any points for 'killing' you. Why did Bella have to get herself knocked out? Now I have to deal with whoever shot Greenbay, not to mention the guy (or guys) in the tower. My situation has hardly improved. _

A dark hand holding an orange-and-black pistol appeared around the corner, followed by Garcia, with Bluff at his shoulder. The Spanish boy frowned when he saw the corridor strewn with motionless trainees, and he pointed his gun at Jan.

"Freeze!" he said. "Drop your gun, and I won't shoot you."

_Maybe I can take advantage of this, _thought Jan. He held out his D-20 as if he was going to let it go, then suddenly dodged to the side. But right as he was about to fire, he felt a sting in the back of his right ankle, and his muscles seized up. He collapsed heavily on his side.

_Damn it, _he thought angrily. _Shot in the foot? That's pathetic! _

Bluff and Garcia moved up and took cover in the spot that he'd been in moments before. They were speaking, but his brain couldn't register the words properly; they just sounded like a bunch of disjointed sounds. Jan sighed inwardly. The only thing he could do now was wait until the paralysis wore off and the combat simulation was over.


	7. Fall

Chapter 7: Fall

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Trainee Evaluation Set 6_

_Re: Request for additional individual information_

_Trainee 6A: Greenbay, Joseph Edison _

_Extremely insecure and unconfident in himself. Average at everything he does. Orphaned from early childhood, subject has a difficult time fitting into social groups. He considers himself ugly and goes to great pains to hide his face from those around him. Shows aspects of developing misogyny, which originated from being bullied by several girls at the Delphinium Orphanage, where he grew up. We predict that subject will respond poorly to the criticisms of staff during the training program, but his performance may improve with praise. _

_Trainee 6B: Chang, Jack_

_Born in China and adopted by an American couple, but sent to foster care in his eighth year because of the family's inability to cope with his violent behavior. Subject shows signs of early sadism. Subject seems likely to flourish under program conditions, but has high potential for mental instability. _

_Team Evaluation: If compatible, this team has the potential to do very well combat-wise, although we predict that Trainee 6B's violent nature might rub off on Trainee 6A._

It was about ten minutes before Ms. Peterson came through and administered shots containing a muscle relaxant to all the paralyzed trainees. During that time, Jan determined that the pair in the tower was Carson and Worthington, who were in fact the winners of the simulation. It seemed that Carson had had the same idea as Jan about how to win, but a more fortuitous starting point.

He was glad to be able to move again. It was frustrating to have to lie there, helpless and rigid, at the mercy of whoever came along. Although he knew he was in no physical danger, it still made him very uncomfortable.

As soon as his stiff limbs relaxed enough for him to turn his head, he looked around for Bella. She had gotten her shot before him (he suspected that Ms. Peterson deliberately left him until last) and was sitting slumped against the wall with her head buried in her arms. Jan got up and walked a little crookedly over to stand next to her, but she refused to look at him. Her shoulders were shaking a little bit.

"Come on, Bella," he said, nudging her with his knee. "Everyone's leaving."

She got to her feet, still without a glance in his direction, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve before hurrying after the others. Jan followed them, curious and a little baffled. What did she have to cry about?

"Congratulations to Carson and Worthington for winning," said Creed once they were all back out in the corridor. "You two made a good tactical decision when you chose the tower as your holdout spot. As promised, you have the rest of the day off to do whatever you want.

"Now, in terms of personal kills, Carson ranked the highest, with 40 points. Wittman was right behind him with three kills, but the last one didn't count, since it was after his partner had been shot. Chang also scored 20, and Greenbay, Garcia, and Worthington got 10 apiece. No one else scored.

"Alright, we'll have the next simulation a week from today. For now, everyone but Carson and Worthington will come with me to the gun range to start the day's practice."

By the end of the day, Jan knew that there was something wrong with Bella. She avoided him and didn't respond to his attempts to speak with her. At the gym, she climbed to the top of the ropes and stayed there for the entire hour (their exercise time was truncated because of the 45 minutes they had spent on the simulation). At lunch and dinner, she sat with Anderson and Bell. When they returned to their room in the evening, she crawled into her bed right away.

Jan was annoyed. At first, he tried to ignore her, playing around on the computer and practicing his handstands. But when he heard muffled sobbing coming from the upper bunk, he decided that enough was enough.

"What's the matter with you, Bella?" he asked, climbing up so that his face was level with hers. She was lying on her stomach with her face pressed into her pillow. When she heard his voice, her head jerked up and she stared at him out of red-rimmed eyes.

"You've been acting weird all day," he pressed. "What's wrong?"

"I-it's m-my fault th-th-that we lost today!" she sobbed. "You t-told me to watch out b-behind us and I didn't. I wasn't paying attention, so … you ended up g-getting shot. I'm n-nothing but a burden to you."

"_That's _what's bothering you?" Jan said, amazed.

Bella nodded.

"That's silly," he said.

"Y-you mean you're not upset with me? But I screwed up! If it had been real today, I would have gotten you killed! I'm just not cut out to be a soldier."

"Yeah, that's true," he admitted.

Bella buried her head in her pillow again with a little whimper.

"But it's not your fault," he finished. "You didn't want to come here. And I know you're doing your best. It's also my fault that we lost, for not paying more attention. I'm not upset, okay? We'll do better next time. So cheer up. I can't think with you moaning and groaning like that."

Bella lifted her head and stared at him for a minute. Then, a thin smile crossed her lips and she said, "Thanks, Jan. You're always so nice to me, even though you don't have to be. I'm really glad that you're the one they picked to be my partner."

To his embarrassment, Jan could feel his cheeks heating up. He wasn't used to being praised like that. He muttered, "Right." and dropped back down, landing softly and heading for the bathroom to brush his teeth. His face was still faintly red when he looked in the mirror, and he desperately hoped that Bella hadn't noticed. If she had, he'd never hear the end of it.

He took longer than usual in his nighttime routine, and the lights went out while he was still in the bathroom. He felt his way out the door and over to the bunk, thankful that the room was not cluttered. But as he was groping around for the edge of the bed, his hand brushed up against something soft and yelped in surprise. Jan instantly recoiled.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," Bella replied. "You just bumped my arm, that's all."

"No," he clarified. "I meant that I'm sorry for spending too much time getting ready. Now you'll have to do it in the dark."

"Oh. Well, that's alright. I know my way around pretty well." There was a moment of silence before she said, "Goodnight, Jan. And thanks once again. I really mean it."

"You're welcome," he muttered, sitting down on his bunk. "Goodnight."

As he lay there in the dark, listening to her somewhat clumsy progress, he ruminated on the friendship that he seemed to have developed without meaning to. There was no denying that he had changed, if just in little ways, since meeting the shy, needy little girl. Jan, the boy who would never go out of his way to help people, had ventured outside his comfort zone just to try and comfort someone else. The feeling of being depended on was a new one to him, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant. 

The next morning, the four best marksmen among the trainees (Carson, Garcia, Chang, and of course Jan) made the switch over to targets that moved up and down, and from side to side. At first, the movement was slow, but it began to speed up as they improved. Jan was glad of the extra challenge; if he was going to win the next game, he needed more practice. He was still irritated with himself for missing the first shot at Chang.

A minor incident occurred that day during sparring practice, but it left a big impression on Jan's mind. For the first time since they had started learning CQC, Creed had to step in and halt a practice bout. It was Greenbay versus Anderson, and at first it seemed pretty even. Greenbay seemed reluctant to fight, and Anderson got in a few decent punches to his chest and stomach. But when she got in close and tried to knee him, he grabbed her by the throat and tackled her to the ground, sitting on top of her and choking her with both hands. Jan, who was standing in a position to see Greenbay's face clearly, noticed that the boy's eyes were bulging out, and his teeth were fixed in a savage snarl. At that moment, Jan realized that he was honestly trying to kill his opponent.

Creed waited for a few seconds to see if Anderson would be able to do anything about it, but he was forced to interfere when her face started turning purple and foam dripped from the corners of her mouth. Afterwards, she was sent away with Ms. Peterson to get medical attention, and her voice was raspy and raw for the next few days.

The next week, they had another RCS test. This time Jan and Bella started out on one of the upper levels of the room, with a good view of the open space around the tower. Rather than move around and potentially run into someone, they hid out behind one of the solid railings and watching the room below. Pretty soon, Jan spotted Carson and Worthington sneaking along an open-roofed corridor, heading for the tower. He nudged Bella and pointed to them.

"Think you can take Worthington from here, if I get Carson?" he whispered.

"I don't know," she whispered back. "I'm not very good at shooting, not like you are."

"Just do your best," he said. "Prop your gun on the railing to keep your aim steady. Okay, shoot when I say to. Wait … wait … now!"

Jan aimed right at the back of Carson's unprotected neck and fired, but by some strange coincidence, the other boy chose that exact moment to turn and speak to his partner. The dart missed by millimeter and stuck in the wall. Carson, whose reflexes were excellent, rolled forward and dove behind a corner.

Bella was shooting at Worthington, but none of her darts were coming close. Luckily, Worthington was much slower on the uptake than his teammate, and Jan was able to tag him in the back as he went for cover.

"Sorry!" Bella said, looking mortified. "I told you I couldn't hit him."

"You did fine," said Jan. "It was a long way away. At least now Carson doesn't stand a chance of winning, since he's on his own."

He was about to suggest that they should move on when he heard hushed voices. Anderson and Bell were coming up the ramp to their right. But they were mostly protected by the railings, with only their helmeted heads showing, and Jan wasn't sure that even he could managed to get a shot into the inch-wide gaps in the partitions.

Turned to warn Bella not to shoot, but it was too late. She was already firing. As he had predicted, the darts bounced harmlessly off the metal. The two girls let out shouts of alarm and began shooting back.

_Damn it, Bella, _Jan grumbled inwardly. _Don't you think? _He grabbed her arm and said, "Come on, let's bail. We're not going to win here. I'll cover you while you go down the ladder. Go!"

He unloaded five darts into the railing, wishing for once that the D-20 made a louder noise. There was nothing quite as intimidating as gunfire for making your opponents keep their heads down.

At least Anderson and Bell were not too great of shots either. Once Jan confirmed that Bella had gotten down safely, he made a dash for the ladder himself. He climbed down the next level, but as soon as his feet touched the ground, he froze in alarm. Chang and Greenbay were standing no more than five feet away, and Greenbay had his arm locked around Bella's throat. They were standing dangerously close to the edge of the catwalk, with a drop of at least ten feet below them.

"Hey there, Shorty," said Chang, with his usual happy smile. "When we caught one little rat, I figured that the second wouldn't be far away. If I were you, I'd drop my gun. Otherwise you'll find out whether or not your pretty little partner knows how to fly."

Jan let his pistol fall by his feet, where he could easily reclaim it if he got the chance. "Don't drop her," he said, his mouth dry. "You might hurt her."

"Oh, we wouldn't want that," said Chang, in a tone that implied the exact opposite. "Turn around and put your hands over your head."

Jan did as he was ordered. He wasn't sure what game Chang was playing with them, but he didn't like it.

"Now get down on your knees."

_Fool, _he thought as he knelt. _You've just put me right next to my gun. Do you think that I'm not fast enough to get you?_

In one fluid movement, he rolled forward, grabbing his gun as he did so, and twisted around as he came up so that he was aiming right at Chang's heart. He fired, but the Chinese boy was quick enough to duck, and the dart hit Greenbay dead on.

Then something unbelievable happened. In the split second before the paralysis set in, Greenbay pushed Bella away from him. Right over the edge of the catwalk. Her terrified scream rang in Jan's ears.

_Shit! That was _not _supposed to happen! _"Bella!" he called. "Are you alri-"

He never got to finished his sentence. A tingling feeling spread through his body from the dart stuck in his stomach, and he flopped onto his side, arms still stuck out in front of him, gripping his gun. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but what really pissed him off was that he was unable to make sure Bella was okay. He couldn't hear her crying, but that didn't mean anything. She could be unconscious or in shock or …

Dead? Was it possible to die from a fall like that? Maybe if you hit your head or broke your neck. But Bella was so graceful, she knew how to land on her feet. She would be fine. Wouldn't she?

Five agonizing minutes passed before he heard footsteps on the walkway behind him. They were slow and uneven, as though the person making them limped. Moments later, Bella appeared in the corner of his vision and sat down where he could see her. Her face was twisted in pain, and she was holding her right foot.

"Sorry, Jan," she mumbled. "I got us in trouble again. I really am useless."

He rolled his eyes, which was really all that he could do. His jaws were locked shut and his tongue wouldn't move, but he could still make an _mm-mm _sound in his throat. He hoped that Bella would understand his meaning.

"My ankle isn't broken, just sprained," she explained. "I landed on it wrong. I just wasn't expecting him to really push me."

"Mmm," said Jan.

There were more footsteps, and Bella looked up at someone over Jan's shoulder. Her eyes widened in fear.

"Who got you?" asked the quiet voice that Jan knew to be Carson's. It was the first time he had spoken directly to them in the two weeks they'd been training together.

"Ch-chang and Greenbay," Bella stammered. "We got Greenbay, but … Chang's ran away. Um … are you going to …"

"Give me your gun," said Carson. Bella complied, and the boy took it and turned to walk away.

"Why?" Bella called after him. "Why didn't you shoot me?"

"Don't know," Carson replied dismissively. "Guess you could say that I've got a soft spot for girls."

Then he was gone.


	8. Kids With Guns

Chapter Eight: Kids With Guns

**I apologize for the delay in posting this. My internet has been really bad for the last two days. Please enjoy! Oh, and since I've finished all the trainee bios, I'd be interested to know who is everyone's favorite (besides Jan, of course!)  
><strong>

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Trainee Evaluation Set 7_

_Re: Request for additional individual information_

_Trainee 7A: Wittman, Jan_

_Reserved and anti-social. Born in Providence, Rhode Island to an American mother and a German immigrant father, Hans Wittman. When Subject was two years old, his father, for reasons unknown, shot him and his mother before committing suicide. Subject spent one year in the hospital to recover. Although he does not consciously remember this, there is most likely buried trauma resulting from this that causes him to avoid people. We predict that he will make an excellent soldier, as long as he continues to suppress his emotions. _

_Trainee 7B: Carter, Bella Matilda_

_Emotional, clingy, and prone to developing strong attachments to those around her. Shows symptoms of PTSD (sudden, uncontrollable mood swings, freezing up in scary situations) following the brutal murders of her parents and older brother when she was nine. _

_Team Evaluation: The only male-female pairing in the program. We chose Trainee 7B as 7A's partner specifically because she is the most likely candidate to break through his thick skin and cause him to feel emotions. Depending on Trainee 7A's treatment of 7B, we think they are capable of becoming a very effective force, all the more so if they become emotionally attached to one another._

Bella was excused from sparring lessons and workouts in the gym for the next week, on account of her sprained ankle. She didn't seem too unhappy about it, but although Jan hated to admit it, it threw him off not to have her with him all the time. More than once, he found himself turned to make a remark to her, only to remember that she wasn't there. He had to ease his frustration by beating Chang extra hard whenever they sparred. Jan considered that Bella's injury was mostly the Chinese boy's fault, for letting his partner take the dart that was meant for him.

On the fourth day of the week, Jan and Carson, the two people who had already mastered the moving targets, were bumped up to the next stage of training: multiple targets. They were given a time frame (thirty seconds) in which to hit all of them before they disappeared. Jan, who still liked to take his time to aim and fire, only hit two out of the five the first time he tried. The second time, he got four of them. He still wasn't fast enough to hit the fifth, but he felt like he was getting there.

By the time they had their third RCS, Bella could walk without crutches again, and only limped slightly. Garcia offered her his shoulder to lean on as they walked through the hallway to the simulation room, but she declined with a gracious smile. Jan had to bite back a snappish reply of, 'If she needed someone to lean on, she would have asked _me._'

Their starting point this time was on one of the middle levels, with nowhere to go but down. Jan set out, in the lead as usual. He could hear two people walking around above them, but there was no way to get to them. By the treads - one heavy and one barely noticeable - he guessed that they were McDonnel and Milligan.

Bella was lagging behind a little. Jan stopped and turned to look at her, raising his eyebrows.

"You doing okay?"

"My foot's just a bit sore," she said. "I haven't been walking on it much."

"I'll slow down," he said, adjusting his pace to match hers. He wasn't going to make this mistake of letting her out of his sight again, not after what had happened the last two times.

They approached a T-shaped intersection, and he motioned for Bella to clear the left side while he checked the right. They moved up together and spun around their respective corners at the same time. Jan's hallway was clear, but Bella gave a little cry of surprise. He turned quickly, gun pointed towards the potential threat.

It was just Milligan. The little boy was sitting up against the wall, looking miserable. He was unarmed. Jan looked around for McDonnel, but the redhead was nowhere in sight.

Jan lowered his pistol and stepped forward. "Milligan," he called. "Where's your partner?"

"Right here, runt," said a voice to his left. Something hard pressed against the side of his neck: the barrel of a D-20.

"Not a bad plan, huh?" McDonnel continued, cackling. "It came to me that I could use the useless little bug as bait. And what do you know, I caught a fish with it. Hands in the air, Wittman. It's time for me to pay you back for my nose."

_I can't believe I fell for his stupid trap, _Jan thought angrily. _How could I have been so careless? We're going to lose again, and this time it's no one's fault but mine. _

A large hand gripped his shoulder hard enough to bruise, and pressure forced him to his knees. McDonnel chuckled delightedly.

"This is gonna be fun. I think I'll shoot you first. Then you won't be able to fight back. I'll show you who's tough, you lit-"

Curiously, he fell silent. After a couple of seconds, Jan turned his head to look. The redhead was completely still, his face frozen into an expression of surprise. He was kept upright only by his hand, which was still clenched on Jan's shoulder. With an effort, Jan jerked himself free, and McDonnel fell forward onto his face. Behind him was Bella, her gun held out in front of her with shaking hands. She looked shocked by her own action.

"Good shot," said Jan, inspecting it. The dart was right in the back of McDonnel's neck.

"I - I can't believe I did it!" she gasped. "I was really scared, but … he was talking about hurting you, and I …"

"You did a good job," he reassured her. "You really saved me. I knew you had it in you. Didn't I tell you? You just have to believe in yourself."

She was still staring at McDonnel's prone form. "What a jerk."

"Yeah." He shot a glance at Milligan, who was quivering on the floor. "What should we do about him?"

"Please don't shoot me!" the smaller boy shrieked, clasping his hands together. "Please don't shoot me! Please don't shoot me!"

"It's okay," Bella said kindly. "Peter - that's your name, right? We're not going to hurt you, Peter."

"You realize we could still make points off of him," Jan pointed out. "It's not like it'll hurt him."

Milligan blanched whiter than a fish's flesh. "No, don't!" he cried. "I don't like it! It feels bad!"

"Jan, stop it!" Bella exclaimed. "Can't you see you're scaring him? He's just a little kid."

"We're _all _little kids, Bella. Kids with guns can still be deadly."

"No!" she cried, moving to stand in between him and Milligan. "You can't shoot him! I won't let you!"

"You shouldn't be so soft-hearted, Bella," he countered. "We're only in training now, but someday we'll be real soldiers, killing to stay alive. If you show mercy on the battlefield, you'll get not only yourself, but others around you killed. Think smart."

Bella stomped her foot, and Jan was dismayed to see tears shining in her green eyes. "If being smart also means being cruel, than I'd rather be the stupidest person on Earth!" she shouted.

Jan clamped his hand over her mouth before she could make any more noise. "Alright, alright," he said. "Just calm down, okay? We'll let the little guy go and move on. I was just trying to prove a point, Bella, geez. I wasn't really going to shoot him."

She sniffed and pulled away from him, looking a little placated. "Oh. Okay."

He turned to go, but at that moment, he heard a click and a dart whizzed past his left ear, missing him by a fraction of an inch. Milligan, driven beyond the edge of conscious thought by his terror, had seized the D-20 dart gun that was tucked in the back of his fallen partner's pants and was firing at them. His hands shook so much that darts flew everywhere in a random pattern as he repeatedly pulled the trigger.

"Look, Boss!" he screamed. "Look, I can get them! Just like you told me! Don't hurt me, Boss! I can get them! Look!"

Thinking quickly, Jan dropped to the ground and grabbed McDonnel's stiff body, lifting up and using him as a shield to protect him and Bella. Several more darts pierced him, and the redhead gave a muffled roar of anger. Milligan gasped and dropped his pistol at the same moment that Jan lifted his own and put a dart in the other boy's chest. With a whimper, Milligan froze in place, locked into a hunched-over position.

"Sorry," said Jan, noticing that Bella was glaring at him. "That was reflexive. Although, in my defense, he _was _shooting at us after we had already declared a truce."

Bella ignored him and walked over to Milligan, rolling him gently onto his side so that at least he could see what was going on around him. She gave him an apologetic glance before heading back to Jan.

"Let's go," she said.

The next person they ran into was Bluff, all by himself. He was wandering aimlessly around, looking a bit lost, but Jan was wary this time, and tagged him nearly in the back from cover. They found Garcia further down the corridor, lying stiffly on his back.

"Who got you?" Jan asked. "Carson? Look to the left if he did."

Garcia looked left.

"Which way did he go?"

Garcia's eyes rolled up in his head, indicating that Carson had continued on ahead.

"Was he alone or was Worthington with him. Look left if he was alone."

Garcia stared straight ahead.

"Alright, thanks," Jan said. "Come on, Bella."

"Sorry, Gabriel," murmured Bella as they passed by the Spanish boy. She said it quietly, but Jan's ears were sharp enough to catch it. He gritted his teeth and kept going. _How come she can't call him by his last name, like everyone else? _he wondered. Then, a moment later, _wait a minute, why does it bother me so much? Why do I even care? She could call McDonnel by his first name if she really wanted to. But she doesn't, because she doesn't like him. She likes me, and she calls me Jan, not Wittman. But we're partners. So why does she call Garcia by his first name, but not Anderson or Bell? It's confusing! _

Too late, he realized that he wasn't paying attention as he rounded a corner and almost collided with Morgan and Walters. Only his quick reflexes and the fact that they were also surprised saved him from being shot. He managed to dart Morgan in the leg before ducking back around the corner.

Walters returned fire, but made the critical error of coming too far forward in an attempt to reach around the corner, and exposing his arm to Jan's line of fire. He went down with one shot.

"Who was it?" Bella asked from just behind him.

"Morgan and Walters," he replied. "They're down. And we've got 50 points already. I think we might actually win this time. Let's head for the tower. I bet that's where Carson and Worthington were going."

He was right. Approaching the open space in front of the tall structure, they were just in time to witness a shootout between the team he was looking for and Greenbay and Chang. It ended predictably with Carson's win, although Worthington got taken down by a lucky shot from Greenbay, fired after he was hit but right before the paralysis took hold.

_Alright, _thought Jan. _Unless Anderson and Bell are still around somewhere, it's down to us and him. I can take him right here._

He aimed his gun at Carson's back. But just then, Bella, coming up behind him, stepped wrong on her injured foot and gave a little gasp of pain. It wasn't much, but it was enough to alert Carson, who snapped around and pointed his gun at Jan.

"Well?" called the other boy. "What now? We're in a stand-off here."

"What about the girls?" asked Jan.

"Greg and I got them earlier," said Carson.

"Then it's just us," Jan told him. "How many points do you have?"

"Fifty."

"Same here. Whoever gets the other first wins it."

"No offense," said Carson, "but I think I could probably take you both."

"Not without getting shot by one of us," said Jan. He observed with approval that while he'd been talking, Bella had surreptitiously taken up a position several feet away from him with her gun trained on Carson. Whether or not she could actually hit him was questionable, but her strategy was solid.

"I have an idea," said Carson. "How about we both put our guns down, and Miss Carter too, of course, and you and I have a one-on-one match. Knives or fists, whichever you prefer."

"Knives," said Jan instantly. He wasn't sure he could beat Carson with strength alone, but if he had a weapon, he was confident he could do it.

Carson tossed his gun to the side, far enough away that he couldn't easily retrieve it. Jan felt a flash of admiration for his honesty. Clearly, he had every expectation that it would be reciprocated.

Jan handed his gun to Bella and said, loudly enough that Carson could hear him, "Don't shoot him unless I lose, and then only if he comes for you. Got it?"

"Be careful, Jan," she whispered. "He's dangerous."

"I know, I've seen him fight."

Carson had his knife out, and was in a fighting crouch. The blades on the practice knives were blunt, but you could still wound someone pretty serious if you stabbed them with the point.

Jan took his own knife out of its sheath and walked to the center of the room, matching Carson's stance with his own. They circled, looking for openings. Carson was left-handed, which meant that he was pretty well-defended against attacks from Jan's right.

With a subtle shifting of his feet, Carson moved in with a lightning-fast slash to Jan's throat. Jan parried and jumped backwards, barely avoiding the follow up jab. He took a swing of his own and nicked Carson's hand. A tiny drop of blood seeped up from the scratch.

They locked blades, struggling for a moment. Carson stepped forward, trying to use his superior size and strength to unbalance Jan. But Jan was ready for him. Ducking under the sideways strike, he came up inside Carson's guard, close enough that they were nearly touching, and brought his knife right up to the other boy's neck.

"I think it's my win," he said.

"Not bad," Carson admitted. He dropped his knife and sat down on the ground. "You can shoot me now."

Jan looked at Bella, who shook her head. He looked back at Carson. "Consider yourself a prisoner of war," he said.

Carson grinned. Then, unexpectedly, he said, "I'm James, by the way. What's your name?"

"Jan."

"And I'm Bella," added Bella, who had approached when the fight was over.

James nodded. "You two make a good team. On second thought, I might've underestimated you both a bit."

Jan shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."

Creed's voice over the loudspeaker announced that the simulation was over and that Ms. Peterson was coming around to inject the paralyzed trainees. Jan and Bella exchanged a congratulatory look.

"You did it, Jan!" she exclaimed. "Way to go!"

"_We _did it," he corrected her. "Don't forget you saved me from McDonnel earlier."

"Yeah," she said, with a happy smile. "_We _did it."


	9. Murderous

Chapter Nine: Murderous

**No one reviewed the last chapter T-T ... I hope people aren't losing interest in the story. In any case, this chapter adds some action into the mix, so enjoy! **

Weeks turned into months, and months added up to become a year and then two. The fourteen children in the RIMTEC Young Soldier Training Program, codenamed "Lone Wolf", grew older and stronger and taller. For Jan, the change was so gradual that he hardly noticed it, although he did noticed that Bella, who was formerly the same height as him, was now two inches shorter.

There was no question now but that they were a perfect team: they had the skills of Carson and Worthington, but got along as well as Anderson and Bell. Jan found that the longer they worked together, the more they seemed to know what the other was thinking. He could tell from Bella's facial expression exactly what she was thinking, and she likewise seemed to always know what he had in mind. They didn't always win, but they won more often then they lost.

Bella seemed to be happier than she was when they first started. Her skill with the pistol improved, and although she would never be as accurate as Jan or Carson, she could hold her own against most of the trainees. With her flexible build, she was better than most at the various acrobatics that they practiced. And she could still run faster than anyone else when they had races.

For the most part, the trainees kept to the separate groups they had developed early on, and didn't intermingle. The only difference was that after Jan's knife fight with Carson, the dark-haired boy was quite civil and almost friendly to them. Jan wasn't complaining about that; besides Bella, Carson was the only one of their group that he genuinely respected. He wouldn't go so far as to say that he _liked _him, but then again, he didn't think that anyone really liked the distant, cold boy. Except maybe Anderson, who had lately been sitting next to Carson at mealtimes and trying unsuccessfully to engage him in conversation.

It was at one of the mealtimes that things finally came to a head between Jan and Worthington. The thuggish boy had been acting hostile towards him for a few months, ever since Jan had beat him within several seconds of starting a practice bout. Worthington had been bragging and showing off before the bout started, talking about how easily he could take out 'Shorty', as Jan had been dubbed by the others. And granted, it had been a rather humiliating finish, since Worthington had ended up in a headlock with his butt in the air, sniveling to be let out. But still, Jan thought that he would have forgotten about it by now.

It was an RCS day, and Jan and Bella had won that morning's game. They were allowed to use different non-lethal weapons now, instead of just a pistol, and Jan had started routinely hiding out at different points in the room with a D-56 sniper rifle, picking off the trainees that Bella lured out by wandering around down below. It worked pretty well, although it was only a matter of time before people stopped falling for it.

Jan was concentrating on eating his lunch (chili with cornbread), when Bella tapped his shoulder. He looked up.

"What?"

"I'm going to head back to our room, 'kay? I don't feel very good."

She was looking a little pale. Jan raised an eyebrow.

"What's the matter?"

For some reason, her cheeks turned red, and she mumbled, "I'm just going to lie down."

"Okay, see you later."

She hurried away, depositing her tray in the proper container before exiting the room. Jan went back to eating, only mildly curious about her reaction. Probably she just ate too much or something.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Worthington get up as well, but he paid no attention to it. He didn't notice that Carson watched his partner go with narrowed eyes. Even when Worthington left by the same door that Bella had gone out of, he wasn't suspicious. The bathrooms were in that direction, after all.

Then he heard her scream. He was out of his seat and sprinting towards the door in an instant. Carson, Garcia, and Bluff got up as well and followed after him, though at a more moderate pace.

"Bella!" he shouted.

They were out in the corridor, no more than twenty yards away from the door. Worthington hadn't even bothered to get out of earshot. He had Bella pinned against the wall, one hand on her throat and the other holding a knife next to her cheek. But unlike the practice knives that they fought with, this one was very sharp. Jan had never seen it before. As a matter of fact, Worthington had brought it with him from his home.

Bella was crying, and there was a bit of blood on her face. It was only a scratch, but when he saw it, Jan lost the capacity to reason. Never in his life had he felt such a burningrage before. He didn't care what Worthington's excuse was. He didn't care about talking. All he wanted to do was take the knife and put it right through that bastard's eye for daring to hurt his Bella.

Worthington must have seen the murderous intent in Jan's eyes as he barreled down the hallway, for he released Bella, who slid down the wall, clutching her throat. Garcia ran to her and knelt down beside her, speaking quickly. Jan wanted to see if she was okay, but he had more important things to think about. He went straight for Worthington, who subtly shifted the knife from his left hand to his right in preparation.

There was nothing subtle about Jan's approach. He came in with a flying knee that caught Worthington right in the chest, knocking him sprawling backwards on the floor. Jan was on top of him in an instant, locking his hands around the boy's throat and squeezing. He barely felt the knife cut through his sleeve and gash his arm.

Worthington wasn't dying quickly enough, so Jan lifted him up by the neck and slammed the back of his head into the ground. There was a sharp crack, and Worthington's eyes went blank. Jan heard someone scream, "Oh my God!"

A pair of arms wrapped around his chest, and he was hauled bodily backwards. But he refused to relinquish his deathgrip on Worthington's neck, and the other boy was dragged along as well. There was blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, and more blood in a little puddle where Jan had his hit head against the floor.

"Let him go, Jan," said Carson's voice in his ear, calm and insistent. "Come on, it's over. Let go."

Jan mustered enough thought to form words. "No. He hurt Bella. I'm gonna kill him."

Carson let go of his shoulders and grabbed his head, wrenching it around so that they were almost nose-to-nose. "Listen to me," he said. "She's fine. Bella's fine. It was just a scratch. Let him go."

Jan suddenly felt very tired. He released his hold on Worthington, and the unconscious boy sagged back onto the floor. Bluff bent over him, checking his neck for a pulse.

"Well?" demanded Carson.

"He's alive," Bluff reported. "We should probably call Mr. Creed and get him sent to the doctor, though. He's bleeding all over the place."

"Alright," said Carson, quickly taking charge of the situation. "I know where the infirmary is. These two need to get checked out as well. Bluff, can you and someone else bring Greg? I'll get Jan. Garcia, you've got the girl, right? Good. Who else is here? Anderson, go find Creed and tell him what happened."

The trainees jumped into action, following Carson's orders as though they'd been given by an adult. Jan would have been impressed if he'd had the capacity to feel him. But his sudden, violent rage had completely drained him both physically and emotionally. It was all he could do to stumble along on Carson's supporting arm.

The infirmary was a small, clean-smelling room with white walls. Jan had been there several times before for minor injuries. The resident doctor, a man called Thomas (whether that was his first or last name Jan wasn't sure), was silent, gruff, and unsympathetic, but had gentle hands.

"What happened here?" he asked as they trooped in at the doorway. To Bluff and Morgan, who were carrying Worthington slung between them, he directed, "Lay him down on that bed."

"Just a fight, sir," said Carson.

"Oh? What about?"

Jan wondered for a moment if Carson was going to lay the blame on him, just as Ms. Peterson had done when he broke McDonnel's nose on their first day. But the dark-haired boy said, "Greg made the mistake of trying to bully Jan's partner. He was protecting her."

"I see," said Thomas. He cast a glance over Worthington's prone form and said, "Looks like you really did a number on him, son. Nurse!"

A petit blonde woman appeared from the side room. She looked fragile, but Jan knew from experience that she had nerves of steel and could deal with any injury, no matter how nasty. She took in the situation at a glance and produced some bandages and pads of sterilizing alcohol.

"I'll see to Wittman's arm and check out Carter, sir," she said.

She made Jan sit down on a chair and helped him strip off his shirt. The gash from Worthington's knife along the back of his arm, just above the elbow, was long but not particularly deep. The nurse cleaned it and bandaged it and gave him a glass of water to sip before turning her attention to Bella.

For the first time, Jan looked at his partner. She was staring blankly ahead, and her face was whiter than a sheet of paper. The small cut on her cheek was already scabbed over.

"Are you okay, honey?" asked the nurse, crouching down to look her in the eye. "Did you get hit anywhere?"

Bella mutely shook her head. The nurse felt her forehead and wrists, then took her hand and led her over to a curtained bed. She came back out several minutes later, alone.

"What's the matter with her?" Jan asked, suddenly worried.

"She's in shock," the woman replied. "Whatever she saw triggered some bad memories for her. It might take her a little while to recover, but she'll get over it."

Jan frowned. "Can I go see her?"

"Sure, but she's out of it right now. I gave her some sleeping drugs."

Jan stood up and walked over to the curtain, slipping inside. Bella lay like a little glass figure in the bed, the crisp white sheets pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were closed, thick lashes dark against her pale cheeks.

Jan sat down on the edge of the bed, since there was no stool available. He could hear Creed's voice out in the main room, inquiring about Worthington's state, and the doctor's reply, "He had a concussion and needs stitches on the back of his head. It'll be a little while before he's ready to come back to training."

"Hmm," said Creed, not sounding too concerned about it. "And Wittman and Carter?"

"Minor physical damage, but they're both a little shell-shocked. From what I hear, it was a pretty violent fight. It sounds like young Wittman had murder in mind when he attacked Worthington."

"Who would have thought that he'd be so protective of her?" Creed mused. "It looks like our gamble was successful … maybe too much so."

_What are they talking about? _Jan wondered. _What gamble? _But he never got a chance to hear more, for Creed thanked Thomas and left the room. The doctor came to check on Bella briefly before gathering the materials necessary to patch up Worthington.

Jan felt ridiculously worn out, although it was still early in the day, and the fight itself had not been not terribly strenuous. His arm throbbed, and his mouth was dry, but he didn't feel like getting up to fetch water. With a sigh, he lay down on the bed next to Bella, outside the sheets, and closed his eyes. The steady ticking of the bedside clock soothed his tightly-wound nerves, and it wasn't long before he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	10. Promise

Chapter Ten: Promise

**Okay, I have to warn you guys in advance that this chapter is pretty fluffy. If you are anti-cuteness, you don't have to read it. Just skip ahead (when I post the next chapter) to the gruesome, violent stuff. But I think a bit of fluff here and there is a nice change-up. Anyway, thanks for the reviews (they make my day!) and I hope you all continue to enjoy the story! **

Jan awoke to the sound of crying. It was dark in the infirmary, except for the nightlights that were always left on. He looked at the clock, which read 12:44, although his mind had to transform it into military time (0044 hours) before it made sense to him.

His next thought was for Bella. It was she who had woken him with her soft sobs. She was curled on her side, facing away from him, with her knees pulled up to chest. Jan couldn't tell if she was still asleep or not.

"Bella?" he murmured, touching her shoulder. She jerked around with a startled gasp and, with only a momentary hesitation, threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She drew away with a hasty apology when she realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Is … is your arm alright?" she asked.

"Fine," he said. In truth, it was aching rather badly, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "What about you? Are you okay? You were crying."

"I was thinking about Mom and Dad and Bobby," she said. Jan was surprised; it was the first time he had heard her mention any family. He had assumed that she was an orphan the same as him.

"Do you miss them?" he asked awkwardly. "I bet that's hard."

She was quiet for so long that he thought he must have said something wrong. As last she spoke, in a voice hardly more than a whisper, "They're dead."

"Ah … I'm sorry. How did it happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said quickly. Jan shrugged and got up, looking around for his shirt. Someone had thoughtfully washed the blood out of it and mended the rip in the sleeve. It seemed like the sort of thing that Bella would have done, except that she'd been asleep the whole time. It was probably the nurse.

"Do you have parents?" Bella asked suddenly. He glanced over at her. Her eyes were like liquid jade in the dark, glittering with small points of brightness from the nightlight reflecting off her tears.

"They died when I was a baby, so I don't remember them," he said unfeelingly. Bella looked shocked, but he didn't understand why. It wasn't like it mattered to him. Parents was just a word, after all. It didn't mean anything.

"Not even your mom?" Bella asked.

"I've got a picture of her," Jan said. "I'm told her name was Samantha. Here, I'll show you." He took the worn photo out of his front pocket, where he always kept it. He held out to her, and she took in and put it under the nightlight.

"Wow, she's so pretty!" she exclaimed. "And so young! My mom looked much older than that." She handed it back to him. "What about your dad?"

"No one ever saved me a picture of _him_, or told me what his name was," Jan said with a wry smile. "When I was two, he killed my mother and tried to kill me before committing suicide." His shirt wasn't buttoned up yet, and he moved aside the cloth so she could see the scar on his chest.

"Oh, Jan … that's so horrible!" Bella said.

He buttoned up his shirt, and sat back down. "That's what they told me, anyway. Like I said, I don't remember anything." That was not strictly true. He had one disjointed memory from his early childhood, although he couldn't be sure whether it was true, or just a figment of his imagination. He had a vague impression of a woman holding him, and a voice screaming "Hans!", and a shadowy male figure coming towards them. And then, a searing pain in his chest that was so intense, it must surely consume him.

Small arms wrapped around him, and Bella's head rested on his shoulder. Jan stiffened in surprise and consternation, but she just stayed where she was, wordlessly hugging him. She was warm, and smelled sweet.

"Adults are such jerks, aren't they?" she said a few minutes later. "They think that just because we're kids, we don't need to know anything. When my parents and big brother died, I was the last one to know about it. The bus dropped me off after school, and there were a lot of blue-and-white cars with lights on top around my house, and yellow tape everywhere, and a big man in a uniform told me that Mom and Dad and Bobby were away on vacation. But I knew he was lying, because they wouldn't have gone away and left me behind. And then they called my uncle and he came over to pick me up, but he wouldn't tell me anything either. He just said that a kid like me should do as I was told and not ask questions. So that night I snuck out of his house and walked across town to my own house to find out what had happened. It was dark inside … I mean, really dark, like where you can't see anything. But it smelled bad inside, and the floor was all slippery. And then when I found a flashlight and turned it on …"

"It's okay, Bella," Jan interrupted, seeing that she was shivering. "You don't have to tell me any more."

"There was blood everywhere," she finished. "So much blood. The kitchen floor was a lake. It was splattered up the walls and even on the ceiling. And there was a big trail of it leading up the stairs to the second floor."

_So _that's _what scared her so badly that she freaks out every time she sees blood, _Jan thought. _And I went and beat someone half to death right in front of her. It's a miracle that she'll still talk to me. _He asked, "Did you ever find out what happened to them?"

Bella nodded. "They were murdered by a psychopath who was never caught for it. No one would tell me, so I had to read the newspaper article. It was full of graphic details. I don't think they should be allowed to write stuff like that. It might be interesting in a sick way to people who don't have any connection to it, but it's horrible for the family members. No one wants to have to hear about the terrible things that someone did to people that you love."

Jan squeezed her shoulder. "Once we're done here, and we graduate or whatever they call it, we'll go and find the guy who did that, and we'll kill him."

"Do you really think we can find him?" Bella asked hopefully. "My uncle said that he could kill as many people as he wanted and he'd never be caught because our justice system is rotten."

"We'll get him," Jan insisted. "Adults are dumb. We're not. There's got to be some clues. And when we find him, we won't just turn him in. We'll kill him however you want to, and make him pay for what he did. That's a promise."

Bella smiled through trembling lips. "You know what, Jan? I'm glad that they sent me here after all, because otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."

"I'm not that special, Bella," he sighed. "In fact, I'm probably a bad influence on you. You should be hanging out with other nice girls like yourself, not a boy who only knows how to fight."

"Don't say things like that!" she protested. "You're my best friend! I never would have been able to survive here if it wasn't for you. You kept me safe and taught me how to shoot and you're always nice to me even when I bug you. You used to get this expression on your face like you wished I would go and die somewhere and just leave you alone, but you don't look like that anymore."

Jan wasn't sure how to respond to this gush of positive feeling. "Well, I guess you deserve some credit for putting up with me," he muttered.

She laughed and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom, 'kay? I'll be back in a minute."

She pushed back the sheets and hopped up. Jan noticed that she was wearing a flower print nightgown with lacy frills on the collar and cuffs. It must have been given to her by the nurse.

After Bella left, Jan toyed with the idea of going over to Worthington's bed and strangling him while he slept - less out of any lingering desire to see the boy dead than purely out of principle. He had tried to kill him and failed, and that was irritating. Jan didn't like failure.

Jan heaved another sigh and looked at the clock. It was not well past one in the morning. In less than seven hours, the next day's training would begin. Jan wondered idly if he and Bella would be expected to join in. If so, it would be smart to get some more sleep, but he didn't feel tired anymore, having slept for the majority of the day. He was, however, very hungry.

He was about to get up and look for some food when he noticed a dark spot on the bed sheet. He leaned closer. It was blood. Frowning, he checked his bandage, but it was unstained. That meant it must have come from Bella. Bella was hurt. But how? She hadn't said anything. How could the nurse have missed it? How bad was it? Should he call the doctor back in?

"Jan?"

He looked around. Bella noticed his wide eyes and follows his gaze to the spot of blood on the bed. Her entire face flushed and she quickly whisked the sheets back into place, covering it up.

"That's nothing," she said.

"It isn't nothing! You're hurt! Why didn't you tell anyone?"

She had the strangest expression on her face. "I'm fine, Jan, really."

"But you're bleeding!"

"Shh!" she hissed. "Jan … calm down, okay? It's just my …" she trailed off.

"Your what?"

"My period," Bella mumbled.

Jan was confused. "Your _what_?"

Within a few seconds, Bella expression went from mortified to amazed to amused. "You really don't have a clue, do you," she said. "Jan, you poor, naïve boy. All girls bleed like this, every month. After a certain age, that it. I got mine for the first time only a month ago."

Jan felt like a monumental idiot. _Girls are so weird, _he thought. _It's like they come from another planet or something. Are they really human? I've always been glad I was a boy, but now I'm _really _glad. _

"Why?" he asked. "I mean, doesn't it hurt?"

"Sometimes," said Bella. She seemed to be a bit more relaxed now, and she had taken on the tone of a wise teacher to a foolish but well-meaning young student. "It makes my stomach ache, and I feel out-of-sorts. But it's a very important occasion for a girl. It means that I'm able to have babies."

Jan's mouth fell open. "What? You mean now? You could have a kid? But you're just a kid yourself!"

"I don't _want _to have kids!" Bella exclaimed, blushing. "Not just yet, anyway. Someday, when I'm _much _older. And I'd have to meet the right man first. But I can't believe that you didn't know about that. Everyone knows."

"Well, no one ever told me," he said brusquely. "And I didn't have any interest in finding out such things for myself."

Bella shook her head. "Well, now you know. Wow … I never thought I'd ever in my life have to explain periods to a boy my age! How embarrassing!"

Jan groaned. _She'd better not tease me about this! And I think it's more embarrassing for me … _

"Well, I think I'll go back to our room now," he said. "Are you going to come or stay here?"

"I have to stay," she said. "Ms. Riley told me to sleep here tonight."

"Okay, then. See you."

He turned to go, but Bella caught his arm.

"Wait!" she pleaded. "Jan, please don't leave me alone. What if Worthington wakes back up?"

"Want me to kill him for you before I go?" he asked. When she glared at him, he held up his hands. "I was joking. Mostly. But I really think you'll be fine, Bella. He's not getting up anytime soon."

"Still … I'm scared to be here by myself. Please stay."

Jan sighed and sat back down on the bed. "Fine. You owe me, though."

"Thanks." Bella climbed back under the covers, letting out a sleepy yawn as her head hit the pillow. "Goodnight, Jan."

"It's 'good morning' now," he pointed out. "It's already 0130."

"Well, good morning, then," she said. "And by the time I wake up, I want to be able to say 'good afternoon'."

Jan smiled and listened to her breathing grow softer in the darkness. "Goodnight, Bella," he whispered, but only once he was sure she was fast asleep.


	11. Pain

Chapter Eleven: Pain

**I have to apologize for the amount of angst in this chapter ... normally that's not my thing, but it seemed to fit the situation well. Jan seems to me like the sort of boy who would have a really hard time with puberty. Anyway, I hope it doesn't disgust anyone too much '~' ... enjoy, and thanks for the reviews!**

Worthington stayed in the infirmary for three days, and didn't return to training until the end of the next week. Even when he did, he was a pale, silent ghost, hardly speaking. He particularly avoided Jan at all costs, which was just fine. Jan wanted nothing to do with him. He felt no regret for trying to kill the other boy, but he wasn't eager to involve himself in another such confrontation, especially when Bella was around.

He made sure to thank Carson for his timely assistance, and also his courtesy in telling the plain truth to Creed. Carson shrugged it off and inquired after Bella, saying, "I hope my moronic partner didn't hurt her."

Another interesting side effect that Jan hadn't anticipated was that he became almost legendary to the other trainees. No one called him Shorty anymore. Everyone nodded to him when they saw him outside of classes - even McDonnel, who had finally given up on his bullying campaign where Jan was concerned. In sparring class, whenever anyone was called to fight against him, they looked terrified, as though they thought he would suddenly snap and murder them. They only people who continued to treat him the same way they always had were Bella and Carson.

But eventually, they settled back into their normal routine. Months went by, and Jan grew like a weed after summer rain. He filled out as well, and the body that had once been wiry and spare became solid and hard-muscled. He began shaving his face, since he hated the peach-fuzz look that most of the male trainees had.

Bella changed too, although he didn't notice it as first. It came as a surprise to him one day when he noticed that her chest had developed to the point where it was noticeable. He had grown so used to thinking of her almost as a gender all of her own, with the sweetness and beauty of a girl, but the easy approachability of a boy.

One day, late in his thirteenth year, they were sitting together in the cafeteria, eating dinner, and he made a casual remark about how good her target practice was getting. She looked over at him with a brilliant smile, and he felt a sudden rush of light-headedness, similar to the feeling of standing up too quickly after being seated for a long time. He gulped down his glass of water, and the feeling passed, but that night, as he lay in bed with Bella's soft breathing over him, he puzzled over it. She had smiled at him thousands of times before. Why did that particular one affect him so much? He'd felt as though he was about to pass out.

He managed to put the incident out of his mind, but the feelings didn't go away. They came more frequently, and grew more and more difficult to suppress. By the time he was fourteen-and-a-half, even making eye contact with her made his heart beat faster. He was unable to concentrate on anything when she was around, and his performance began to lag behind.

Jan despised the feelings, and the way they made his body react without his permission. It an effort to make them stop, he started avoiding Bella whenever possible. He stopped having long conversations with her, and he sat apart from her at mealtimes. When she tried to speak with him, he respond shortly and with as few words as possible. As first, she was confused and hurt. Then she started getting angry with him. She asked him many times if she'd done anything wrong, but he just said, "No." and walked away from her.

For a while, he thought that it might be working. He missed her company, of course, but it was much more bearable to be separate from her than to have to endure those wretched breathless moments. Occasionally, when he would catch her staring at him with bewildered pain and anger in her eyes, he would feel a stab of guilt, but he always made it vanish by telling himself that it was for the better.

Jan trudged down to hallway towards his room, in a worse mood than he'd been in for a long time. His head was aching again, and he'd been struggling to function normally all morning. In the RCS game they'd played, he'd lost to Morgan the Goof-off of all people, caught off guard after having yet another argument with Bella. They couldn't seem to talk to each other these days without being unkind.

He stopped suddenly when he heard voices up ahead. A boy and a girl. He listened closely. He knew one of them _very _well. The other he thought was Garcia, but he couldn't be sure.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay, Bella?" asked the male voice. "You know I worry about you. You can always come and talk to me, anytime."

"Thanks, Gabriel," said Bella, between sniffs. It sounded as though she'd been crying. "You're such a nice guy. I just don't understand what's been wrong with him lately. He won't even _look _at me."

Jan felt his stomach clench with guilt (she could only be talking about him, after all), but pushed it immediately aside as he had grown used to doing. He was about to walk away and head back to his room by a different route when he heard the familiar squeak of surprise, followed by a soft sigh.

His eyes narrowed. _What's going on? _Before he could think better of it, he turned the corner.

Garcia and Bella were standing close together, and the Spanish boy had his arms around her, rubbing her lower back with his hands. Bella seemed pretty relaxed, leaning against his chest with her eyes closed.

Jan felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He took a step forward into plain view and cleared his throat loudly. The two of them sprang apart like startled rabbits. Bella, who'd had her back to him, looked around. Her eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and alarm.

"Jan!" she exclaimed. "Why are you here?"

He ignored her and addressed Garcia directly. "What are you doing?" There was enough menace in his voice to send most of the trainees fleeing for their lives.

Garcia, not easily intimidated, narrowed his eyes. "None of your business, Wittman."

Bella put out her hands. "Guys, please-" she began.

Jan interrupted her. "I don't think you heard me, Garcia. I asked what you were doing."

"If you must know, I was offering some comfort to your partner, who _you _have been neglecting lately."

"I don't think that's any of _your _business," Jan said, glaring at him. "You stay away from her."

"Don't take that tone with me, Wittman," said Garcia. "The others may be scared of you, but I'm not. And I don't have any intention to stay away from Bella. I'm not forcing her into anything. I don't want to hurt her. I care about her honestly … more than you do, apparently."

"You love her?" Jan growled.

Garcia lifted his chin. "Yes, I do. I am not ashamed to admit it. She is a beautiful, sweet, talented girl. Why, do you love her? If you don't, I don't see why you should care what we do together."

Jan felt cornered, like a cat chased up a tree by a big dog. "Of course I care," he choked out. "Bella's my partner. I don't want her to get hurt."

"Really?" Bella said acidly. "I never would have known."

"You're the only person who has hurt her lately," Garcia added.

"That's different," he said. "I was just doing what I had to. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand that my best friend wants nothing to do with me anymore," snapped Bella. "What more is there to get?"

Jan was silent; what could he say? It was true that he had been acting out of a selfish sense of self-preservation, and that he hadn't considered how it must feel for Bella.

Bella nodded. "Okay, Jan. I'll give you one chance. If you really do care about me, then do something to prove it to me. If you can't … or you _won't _… then from now on, our friendship is over."

Jan's brain felt like a block of ice. One thought kept circling around: _It's over. It's over. What can I do? It's over. _

Bella was watching him expectantly, a faint guarded hope in her eyes. But as the moments dragged on, it flickered and died, and she turned away and took Garcia's hand.

"Come on, Gabriel," she said. "Let's go."

Jan couldn't stand that. To see her walk away hand in hand with another boy when he felt so strongly about her was too much. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, pulled her back around, a bit more roughly than he'd meant to. She cried out, startled, and Gabriel raised his fists, ready to defend her if he had to.

Jan didn't give himself time to reconsider. Grabbing her face with both hands, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. It only lasted for a moment, but in that moment, Jan finally realized how stupid he'd been to push her away all this time. His heart was racing, but it wasn't painful anymore. It felt like flying.

Bella jerked away from him as if his lips were a hot iron. She stared up at him with such a maelstrom of emotions on her face that he doubted even she knew what she was feeling.

She hauled back and slapped him across the face as hard as she could (which was not terribly hard, but it still stung). Then she turned and sprinted down the corridor towards their room as fast as her feet would carry her. Jan could only stare after her, helplessly.


	12. Truth

Chapter Twelve: Truth

**Okay, so nobody seemed to hate the angst. That's good ... you all get points for that. Good news is that the angst is over. Bad news is that the story is coming to a close (two more chapters is my plan). Good news installment number two is that I'm planning a sequel set fifteen years later, with HUNK as an adult. This sequel will take place during a slightly AU Raccoon City Incident. So let me know the public opinion on that idea ... and enjoy the next chapter :)**

"Aren't you going to go after her?" Garcia asked. Jan looked at him dumbly.

"What?"

"You upset her. You should go apologize."

"Why would she want to see me?" he said bitterly. "You heard her. If I couldn't prove myself, she said, our friendship was over. Well, it's over. I just ruined any chance that I ever had."

Garcia shook his head. "You're a good soldier, Wittman, but you really are thick when it comes to people. If she didn't still care about you, she wouldn't have run away after she hit you."

"Why are you trying to help me?" Jan asked suspiciously. "Aren't you my rival or something? How do I know that you don't just want to get her for yourself?"

"I already told you, I'm not trying to force her into anything. Don't you get it? It's you. It's always been you. What does the candle of her affection for me matter against the bonfire of her love for you? I want Bella to be happy, and you're the only one who has that power. Now hurry up. You're wasting time."

Jan didn't say anything; he didn't need to. He had never taken any notice of Garcia before, but now he realized just how far ahead of him the quiet Spanish boy was. It was almost a pity, he thought, that Bella didn't really love him. He would definitely be good to her, much better than Jan was capable of being.

But as he ran down the hallway, his brief moment of magnanimity towards his rival faded and was replaced with pure regret - regret for the way he'd treated Bella lately, and for his inadequacy in expressing his true feelings. He hoped that he hadn't done too much damage to their innocent friendship.

He caught up with her just outside their room. She was trying to enter the code (which only the two of them and the teachers knew) that would open the door to her, but she couldn't see the buttons through her haze of tears. She spun around as he approached, and they stared wordlessly at each other for a minute. He could feel her distress like static electricity in the air between them.

_How should I do this? _he wondered. _What should I say? 'I'm sorry?' 'Forgive me?' 'I never meant to hurt you?' _

"I was wrong," he said at last. The words sounded stiff and haughty, not at all how he had meant. _Damn it, this is harder than I thought it would be. Why can't I just tell her how I feel? _

"About what?" Bella sounded equally stiff, as though she was forcing herself to be polite.

"Everything. I just screwed it all up. Nothing-" he stopped, the words catching in his throat. "Nothing's gone the way I wanted it to."

Bella's face was so still, a mask of stone covering a vulnerable and troubled child. "And how exactly did you want it to go?"

"Just … differently," he said, with a shrug to express what his fumbling words could not. "I didn't want to make you cry. Why did you cry?"

"Because … because …" She pressed her lips together. "Because I was scared that you hated me. Because Gabriel was standing right there, and you were insensitive to do it in front of him. Because I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, but it just felt like you didn't really want to and were just doing it to prove a point. You always care so much about proving your point. Are those enough reasons for you?"

"I wasn't," he said. "Doing it to prove a point, I mean. I was desperate to stop you from going away. I thought that if you left with him, I'd never get you back."

"So … you really do care about me?"

"Of course!"

"Then why on earth have you been so distant lately? Why won't you talk to me or look at me or touch me the way you used to? You've been acting as though I was a contagious disease!"

"I'm an idiot, that's why!" Jan blurted out. "Bella, every time I'm near you, I forget about everything else. I can't think. I can't breathe. My heart feels like it's going burst. I hate feeling like that, because there's nothing I can do about it and I don't understand it. So I thought that if I just kept away from, things could go back to the way they were. I never wanted to feel like that. I just can't help it. So I'm sorry, Bella. I'm really, really sorry."

Bella's stone mask was rapidly crumbling, and the face beneath it was emerging, opening up like the petals of a flower, and full of tremulous and uncertain joy. But even now she was hesitant to believe, in case the dream should dissolve and leave her waking to a cold and empty room.

"Is it true?" she asked breathlessly. "Oh, Jan! Can it really be true?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know it is."

In an instant, the agony of the last few months had faded away. She took a step forward, then two, then cautiously extended her hands. Like two wild creatures they reached for each other, trembling, prepared to flee.

"I'm no good at this sort of thing," Jan rasped. "I did warn you. I'm no good for you."

She smiled the benevolent smile of an angel looking indulgently on human folly, and loving the poor fool in spite of it. "Jan, you silly boy. You've always been good for me."

"What about Garcia?" he asked, wanting to be sure that he was making no mistake.

She sighed, and a cloud passed over her face. "Gabriel … I hope he isn't too hurt. He's sweet, you know. He reminds me of Bobby - my older brother. I'd better apologize later for leading him on. I didn't mean to."

"I think he already knows that," said Jan. "It was he who encouraged me to come after you, you know. I didn't have the nerve. He said that he wanted you to be happy."

Bella beamed at him. "I am happy. But we should get back to the cafeteria before lunch break is over. Creed won't be pleased if we're late for sparring lessons."

Jan was very tempted to say, 'Screw Creed', but common sense prevailed. He took Bella's hand, their fingers fastening as naturally as the clasp of a locket. Thus entwined, they walked together back down the hallway. 

Later that night, when they returned to their room, Jan sat on the bed and grabbed her arm, pulling her down next to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her.

"Don't say anything. Just sit with me."

Wonderingly, she did. He sat with his back propped against the wall and held her in his arms, stroking her satin hair. She was warm and soft and sweet, and for the first time in his life, Jan felt totally relaxed. There was no wariness, no instinct to fight and kill. He was paying attention to nothing but the little body beside him. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and breathed deeply.

"You know," she said at length. "You're very handsome."

The comment caught him off guard. "Am I?"

"Yes, quite. The most handsome boy I've ever seen. I've always thought so."

"Well … ah, thanks. You're very … pretty. No," he amended, "pretty isn't the word. You aren't pretty; that's too simple. You're beautiful. Even that doesn't cover it. You're radiant, fantastic …" he stumbled over words that he'd never used before. "An angel," he finished lamely.

Bella's cheeks turned pink. "You're just being nice," she mumbled. "I'm not nearly as pretty as Cindy or Brenda."

Jan snorted, then quickly stopped when she frowned at him. "I already said that you're not pretty. Any girl can be pretty. You're unique."

They sat in silence for a little while, and the lights went out. Bella sighed and moved to get up, but Jan held her back. He didn't want to relinquish her just yet. He didn't want to lose this blissful feeling.

"Jan," she complained. "I need to use the bathroom."

That made him let her go. "Oh. Sorry."

She disappeared with a flash of a smile, and he heard water running for several minutes. When she returned, her face was wet.

"You can go in and brush your teeth now," she said.

By now, he was used to moving in the dark. He performed his nightly routine neatly and quickly, and walked back out into the room. Bella was standing by his bed.

"Goodnight, Jan," she said.

"Goodnight, Bella."

She didn't move, only continued to gaze at him with an air of expectation.

"Sleep well," he said.

"You too."

More silence. Jan raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Aren't you going to give me a goodnight kiss?" she asked, as if it was the most obvious request.

"A kiss? Uh, now?"

"When else?"

He almost said, _do I have to?, _but that would have upset her. And it wasn't like he was reluctant. He had already kissed her once, after all. But that had been in the heat of the moment, and she had slapped him for it.

"You really want me to kiss you," he clarified. "Right now. You're serious."

"Yes!" she said.

"Okay …" He took a step towards her.

_I can do this. I can do this. I can do this I can do this I can do this … come on, you coward, how hard can it be? She asked for it, didn't she?_

He was standing nose to nose with her, now. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, pursing her flower-petal lips in readiness. Jan leaned in, but his nerve failed him at the last second, and he landed somewhere on her cheek.

"Do you really not want to that badly?" Bella asked, looking a little hurt.

"I'm nervous, okay?" he growled. "It's just … I don't want to mess it up."

She giggled. "Jan the Perfectionist, I forgot. Don't worry, take your time. I'll wait."

"Then you'll be waiting a while," he replied.

Her chin dropped down and she heaved a sigh of disappointment. At that moment, before she could gather herself and retreat to her bunk, Jan dived in and kissed her right on the lips. He was rewarded with her signature squeak of surprise.

"There," he said mischievously. "Your goodnight kiss."

He went to sleep that night with a sense of utter completeness, as if the final piece in his puzzle of life had fallen into place.

It never occurred to him that nothing can last forever.


	13. Broken

Chapter Thirteen: Broken

**Okay, only one more to go before this story is finished. Sorry about the delay ... I've been odiously busy for the last couple of days. Hope everyone's still interested in reading. **

It seemed that everyone but Jan had been expecting them to get together for a long time. Even Creed, when he saw them holding hands in the hallway, was unsurprised. He did pull Jan aside and warn him not to let him his private life interfere with his training, but nothing more.

A few months passed, and they were the happiest of Jan's life. More than once, when he looked in the mirror, he saw his own face reflected back with a dopey smile that wouldn't vanish no matter how much he tried. Bella walked around with stars in her eyes, bumping into everything and everyone.

Perhaps the most vivid memory for Jan was the night they first slept together. It was the last night of their training program, although they had no way of knowing that. The last night of his paradise …

It was initiated by Bella, but then every step of their relationship had been. Jan was too shy to suggest it, no matter how much he wanted to. But Bella, with her usual straightforwardness, told him that it was okay. More than that - she wanted to be his, and she wanted him to belong to her. She wanted to be cemented in his mind in a way that that would never fade. No matter how long you live, you never forget your first lover.

The next morning, Jan's internal clock, developed over five years of a strict, unwavering schedule, woke him at 0720 on the dot. Something was off, but it took him a minute to figure out what: it was silent in the room. There was no echo of Creed's voice, ordering them up. Jan got up (carefully, he didn't want to wake Bella, who was curled beside him) and checked the door, but it was still locked. Shrugging, he got back into bed. If they wanted him to sleep longer, he had no problem with that.

The announcement finally came at 0900 hours, telling everyone to get ready and be in the hallway outside in ten minutes.

"What's going on?" asked Bella.

"Don't know," Jan replied, bending down to kiss her. He couldn't seem to do that enough … he always wanted to do it again.

By the time they stepped outside, most of the other trainees were already waiting, talking together in hushed tones. Carson caught Jan's eye and raised an eyebrow.

The tramp of combat boots heralded Creed's arrival. Barret and Dr. Thomas were behind them. For some reason, they both looked a little unsettled, glum almost. Creed was wearing the same bright smile as he always did.

"Good morning, soldiers!" he boomed.

"Good morning, sir!" they replied in unison. They knew what was expected of them.

"Today is a very important day!" Creed continued. "It has been exactly five years since you first arrived here. For five years, you have sweated and bled and cried. Today is the day it all pays off!"

They were silent, waiting.

"There is only final test, and those who pass it will graduate the program. We'll hold a ceremony this afternoon."

Anderson raised her hand. "Sir, what about those who _don't _pass the test? Are they going to have to redo the training?"

Creed's reply was delayed just long enough to make Jan uneasy. At last he said, "No."

"What is the test, sir?" asked Walters.

"We'll explain that in a minute," said Creed. "First, I'm going to divide you into two groups. A Trainees, come with me. B Trainees, go with Mr. Barret. This won't be a partner exercise. You'll be working alone this time. So I'd advise you to forget all allegiances right now, because they'll just get in your way."

Jan's hand clenched on Bella's. He had a bad feeling about this. Why would they go to all that trouble to make them work in pairs and then suddenly split them up for the final test?

"Listen," he whispered to Bella. "They may make us fight against others. Whoever it is, _no matter what_, be merciless. That's the only way we'll both get out of here. Got it?"

Bella nodded, her lips trembling.

His lips met hers hastily, and then they were torn from each other, and he was shepherded down the hall along with Bluff, Anderson, Morgan, Worthington, McDonnel, and Greenbay. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw her staring desperately after him, her green eyes huge in her pale face.

_At least Garcia's going with her, _he thought, calmed a little by the realization. _I can trust him to take care of her. _The Spanish boy had accepted Bella's choice of Jan with the same stoic quietude with which he took everything else.

Creed led them to a part of the facility that he had never seen before: a long room with lockers on one side and a row of doors numbered 1 through 10 on the other. There, they were outfitted with black tactical gear, including a full-face helmet but not a bulletproof vest. By the time they were finished, Jan could barely tell who was who among his fellow trainees. They were also issued pistols, the same ones that they had been doing target practice with all these years.

"Okay, listen up," shouted Creed. "We're sending you into real combat here. Your opponent has a gun, and they will be trying to kill you. If you don't fight back with deadly force, you are dead. This is not a simulations. This is real, soldiers."

Anderson turned pale, and Morgan looked like he was going to piss his pants. Greenbay jumped up and down a few times and pounded fists on his chest.

"Lemme at 'em!" he roared. "I'm getting pumped!"

"In a hurry to bleed, are you?" Creed asked, giving him a cold eye. "Well, now's your chance to prove yourself a true soldier."

"Sir?" asked Morgan. "Why did we have to split into two groups?"

"Well," drawled Creed, "as you can see, there are only _ten _rooms here. Since there are fourteen of you, we had to divide it up."

They lined up in front of the doors with their number on it.

_Alright, _thought Jan. _All I've got to do is kill whoever's in that room, and I'll be done. Bella and I will be free to hunt down the bastard who murdered her family. _

The door slid open, and Jan stepped inside, drawing his gun. There was a solid floor-to-ceiling partition directly in front of him, and he flattened himself against it, peering around the corner. There was a second partition perpendicular to the one he was using as cover. He could hear someone's heavy breathing nearby.

He advanced and saw a flash of black as his opponent did the same. Small build: either a boy or a woman, he couldn't tell which. It didn't matter, although frankly he'd rather kill a boy. But either way, he could live with it as long as he got to see Bella again.

He moved forward, readying his pistol. He had pinpointed his opponent's position from their panting: right around the next corner. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out.

The other person was right in front of him, much closer than he'd expected, crouched down with their gun pointed right at him. He saw the muzzle flash as they fired, and felt a searing pain in his leg. Clenching his teeth, he shot back. At point blank, he could hardly miss. His trio of bullets pierced the left side of the chest in a neat cluster. With a cry of pain, his opponent dropped their gun and collapsed.

A thrill like a current of electricity ran through Jan's body, and he shivered. _I've killed someone. A real person. Not a target. I moved my finger, and a real person is dead. _

_I'd better check to make sure they really are dead, and not just faking, _he thought. He moved forward, not letting his aim stray from his target's head, ready to shoot again if he saw any movement.

His opponent was still alive, though only just. Her chest (he was pretty sure now that it was a woman) was heaving as she tried to draw breath.

"Help … me …" she groaned. Her voice was distorted by pain and the mask she wore.

Jan knelt and gripped her helmet, pulling it off. But as her face was revealed, he felt his heart shatter.

It was Bella.

"No!" he cried, throwing aside his gun, ripping off his own helmet, and dropping to his knees besides her. She looked up at him with unfocused eyes, and - improbably, unbelievably - she smiled.

Jan gathered her up into his arms, pressing her against his chest. _What have I done? Why didn't I figure out what their game was? How could I have been so naïve and stupid? This was their whole goal, all those hours spent training us to work together, and all along they were planning _this_!_

"Jan …" Bella whispered. There was a fine film of blood between her lips. "I know what you're thinking," she said.

"Don't talk, Bella," he said, trying to remain calm and in control. He would take her out of here and force them to give her medical attention. She would survive; she had to.

He tried to lift her up, but she moaned in pain and he had to stop. "I didn't know …" he said weakly. "If I'd known, I would have let you shoot me. But I didn't know."

Her trembling hand found its way up to his face and rested there. He could barely feel the pressure against his cheek. "I'm … glad," she managed. "Glad that it went this way."

"No!" he cried again. "Don't say that!"

"Shut up and … listen," she said between labored breaths. "Jan … we made a promise … remember? That night … you said … you'd help me avenge my parents. I want you to … promise me something else."

"Anything."

A faint smile tugged at her mouth. "That … no matter what … you'll survive. You have to keep living. Jan … promise …"

He grabbed her hand, unintentionally crushing it with the force of his emotions. Bella didn't wince; perhaps she couldn't feel much anymore.

"I promise!" he said fiercely.

"Good," she said. "You know, I wanted to say … thanks for being my friend."

Jan opened his mouth to reply, but Bella gave a convulsive shudder and went limp in her arms. Her eyes, still open, remained fixed on his face. She was still smiling.

_No, it can't end like this! I wasn't ready! There were so many things that I wanted to tell you … how happy you've made me, how grateful I am that we were partners, how much I love you! Bella, come back! _

It was a long time before he moved. He stayed bent over, clutching the body of the only person who had meant anything to him during his short, painful life. He didn't shout in anger or swear vengeance for her. He didn't even cry. When he finally put her down and stood up, his face was as set as stone, and his heart was an frozen ocean where he had imprisoned all his grief under the ice. Now that she was gone, he would live his life without joy or pleasure, concentrating only on that final promise that he had made:

To survive.

**Okay ... there it is. I feel sure that everyone is going to hate me for this, but please don't burn me in effigy because you don't think Bella should have died. It had to happen. If she had lived, HUNK would never have become the compassionless soldier that we (don't) know so well. At least, that's how I feel about it. Anyway, without giving anything away, I promise that the sequel will be different.  
><strong>


	14. End

Chapter Fourteen: End

**Wow - thought I uploaded this one weeks ago, but I guess I didn't. Well, here's the final chapter, in case anyone was wondering why it was missing. Sorry about that. Anyway, this just wraps things up. Thanks for all the support and reviews. It means a lot.  
><strong>

_Classified: RIMTEC "Lone Wolf" Program Final Progress Report (censored for security reasons) _

_1A - Bluff, Tony - survivor, graduate, codename: UNCLE SAM_

_Psychological Analysis: Seems very depressed following the final test, and the death of his partner at his hands (We believe that he panicked and shot without knowing who it was. Records show that Trainee 1B's gun was never fired). Subject is a likely candidate for substance abuse and suicide. _

_Destination: U.S.S. South Africa Corps_

_1B - Garcia, Gabriel - deceased, cause of death: gunshot wounds _

_2A - Anderson, Cynthia Annette - survivor, held for Umbrella Laboratory_

_2B - Bell, Brenda - survivor, held for Umbrella Laboratory_

_3A - Morgan, Emery Eric - deceased, cause of death: gunshot wounds_

_3B - Walters, David Madison - deceased, cause of death: gunshot wounds_

_4A - Worthington, Gregory - deceased, cause of death: gunshot wound_

_4B - Carson, James Edwin - survivor, graduate, codename: KOGA_

_Psychological Analysis: Unchanged. Subject pulled off a clean kill, verified the body, and appeared unsurprised and unemotional to discover its identity. _

_Destination: U.S.S. Reconnaissance Unit_

_5A - McDonnel, Ashlynn - deceased, cause of death: gunshot wounds_

_5B - Milligan, Peter Carl - survivor, graduate, codename: PIED PIPER_

_Psychological Analysis: In shock following the death of his partner. At first, it seemed as though Trainee 5A had the upper hand, and was going to win, but Subject snapped at the last minute and shot him. Subject is emotionally unstable, displays symptoms of PTSD, and is likely to develop sociopathic tendencies. _

_Destination: U.S.S. Russia Corps_

_6A - Greenbay, Joseph Edison - deceased, cause of death: multiple stab wounds_

_6B - Chang, Jack - survivor, graduate, codename: GHOST 9_

_Psychological Analysis: Subject is dangerously psychotic. Treat with extreme care._

_Destination: U.S.S. Torture and Interrogation Squad_

_7A - Wittman, Jan - survivor, graduate, codename: HUNK_

_Psychological Analysis: Subject has been "hardened" by the program, per our expectations. With the removal of his partner, he has no need for emotions, and has locked them away as an interference with his job. Nevertheless, they are not absent, as in the case of KOGA, but merely dormant. With enough provocation, they could break free and cause plenty of trouble. _

_Destination: U.S.S. Reconnaissance Unit_

_7B - Carter, Bella Matilda - deceased, cause of death: gunshot wound ...  
><em>

Tom Creed stopped typing and took a sip from his mug of cold coffee spiked with Irish Cream. Thin trails of grey drifted up from the half-smoked cigarette dangling between his lips. He hated late nights.

The five graduates of the "Lone Wolf" Program had been doped up with sleeping drugs and settling in maximum security rooms in the infirmary, where they could be closely monitored by Dr. Thomas. This was necessary particularly in the case of Milligan, who had broken down in hysterics during the graduation ceremony and had to be hauled away by force.

Well, Milligan might be good for nothing, and Bluff was almost certainly dead inside and could be counted on to do himself harm, but overall Creed was satisfied by the program results. Three of his former trainees had promising futures: Carson and Wittman with the heavily secret Reconnaissance Unit, and Chang with the Torture and Interrogation Squad, which was even more secret, but terrifying to everyone who knew about it.

Of course, he would have liked it if every team had produced a graduate, but Morgan and Walters had killed each other off in a spectacularly bloody gunfight, and Anderson and Bell had put down their weapons and come to a mutual agreement of peace. Oh well, they would do just fine as guinea pigs for the Umbrella Lab.

He had to admit, the trainee who he was most pleased with was Wittman. His strategy for bringing out the best in the boy had been risky, but it had paid off. Wittman was dangerous, perhaps even more so than Carson, because - though he appeared docile and dedicated - somewhere in the depths of his stone heart an inner fire smoldered. If he ever blew his top, it would be like Mount Vesuvius.

An ironic smile folded Creed's face. He'd never known he was such a poet. But though he waxed eloquent about the child, it was no more than truth. Wittman ... _HUNK _he was called now ... could only keep his bitter anger buried for so long. Eventually it would come boiling up to the surface, overflowing and spreading like a flow of lava from the mouth of the earth, and burn to cinders everything in its path.

Yes … Jan Wittman was a young man whose career Tom Creed would watch with great interest.


End file.
